


The Maze

by deadto27, greywrites



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Art, Fantasy, Innocent Bucky Barnes, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is Precious, Stucky AU Big Bang 2018, To Tag More Would Be To Spoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-10-29 21:13:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadto27/pseuds/deadto27, https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywrites/pseuds/greywrites
Summary: When Steve is seventeen, his mother dies. With no one to take care of him, he will be taken to the castle as a slave. But Steve won’t let that happen. He runs. He runs straight into the one place everyone knows to never go into—the seemingly endless maze on the outskirts of town. He doesn’t expect to be alive in the morning. He doesn’t expect a lot of things. He certainly doesn’t expect to meet someone else in the maze.-----“I choose death over you!” Steve yells back, unable to fight the smile on his face.Rumlow looks like he’s about to snarl a reply except Steve doesn’t get to hear it because the hedges of the maze suddenly move in front of his eyes and the entrance is closed off. The men are no longer there—he can’t even hear them. And Steve’s giddiness evaporates into resignation, because now it is over.No one goes into the maze. Because no one ever comes out.





	1. I wish life would just give me a break

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to share this with you guys. I really hope you like it, it's pretty different to my normal stuff. There's going to be four chapters posted each week for three weeks approx, finishing on Captain Marvel day.
> 
> Thank you so much to my Big Bang artist [allgreymatters](http://allgreymatters.tumblr.com). Her art is seriously incredible, I'm so happy to have a talent like her illustrate my fic 🙌
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta [itsthesummerof2001lily-ella](https://itsthesummerof2001lily-ella.tumblr.com). You've been an incredible support since I started posting my fics and your enthusiasm for my work means the world to me. I'm very grateful to count you as a friend. Thank you for your work on this and for naming my chapters! ❤️ She also made an [awesome playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BGLbmsW9mC8PfiBLqo3mM) for this fic, go check it out.
> 
> Thanks also to the Stucky AU Big Bang organisers x
> 
> So, let's do this.
> 
> Written for AO3. Do not repost elsewhere.
> 
> \-----
> 
>  **The Maze**  
>   
>  _Art by[allgreymatters](http://allgreymatters.tumblr.com)_ ([View full size](https://66.media.tumblr.com/df83e59091aa61040882fb38b2b8e106/tumblr_pn1fwp0XTh1vqeho7o1_1280.png))

Steve is seventeen when it happens. He is seventeen and he isn’t ready. It has just never really occurred to him that he would be without his mother. The idea existed as a vague far off concept, not as something tangible. Not something real. Until now. Until he’d been told about her passing three days ago—taken from him by an attack that stopped her breathing. And he wasn’t there with her. He is almost always by her side, but he wasn’t this time. And she’s just _gone_.

Sarah is buried quickly. Some of the townspeople come along. Some are nice and say kind things, but Steve barely hears a word. He’s barely heard anything since the words “your mother has died”. And then just as quickly, Steve is left alone.

He returns to their house and holds his mother’s things, but he does not cry. The grief has not yet had time to settle. The grief can’t break through because he is too afraid. Without his mother to look after him and provide for him, Steve will need to find employment. Only, Steve is small and weak and far too breakable. There will be no one who will hire him, not for the manual jobs the townspeople need, like farming or building. He has no skill for delicate work either—the work usually left to the women of the town. He is less than useless to them and that means he will eventually starve. There is no kindness left in their town—people can’t afford it. The steward of the castle, Alexander Pierce, does nothing for the town. Steve can just remember a time in his childhood when the now deceased King and Queen ruled, and ruled fairly and kindly—his childhood was a happy time because of it—but since Pierce took over, people now barely scrape by themselves—no one can feed someone who cannot pull their weight. His mother’s death is a death sentence for him too.

Steve feels that perhaps it is for the best. He can be with her again, after all. But Steve knows he won’t be given the dignity of starving. The town knows his situation which means soon Brock Rumlow and the guards from the castle, they will come for him. He’s seen it happen—they all have. Under Pierce’s rule, the castle takes those who are weak. They are used as slaves—used in every sense of the word—and no one ever returns. Steve can’t let that happen to him. Won’t.

He feels himself trembling as he shoves his things into a bag. He doesn’t have much so it doesn’t take long. He finds his mother’s necklace—the only valuable thing they own—and hangs it round his neck, tucking it under his shirt. He packs all the remaining food they have and that is that. His whole life, packed away in less than four minutes.

It isn’t fast enough. He hears the noises of horses and shouts of distress before he’s even opened his door. He did not expect they would come this fast. But Rumlow had always shown a disturbing interest in him, always looking with those hideous eyes of his whenever he turned up at the haberdasher where his mother had worked and Steve helped in the minimal capacity that he could. Rumlow must have come as soon as news of Sarah’s passing had reached him.

Steve tucks a knife into his boot and takes one quick and final look at his home, that is now only a house. He doesn’t have time to be sad. He exits onto the dirt track outside to find they are even closer than he expected, riding up from the town below, the sound of the horses’ hooves hard on the ground.

He starts running, taking off away from town. Away to where, he has no clue—he has never left the town before, his mother always said it’s not safe out there. But anywhere is preferable. Death is preferable.

He soon hears shouts behind him. He’s been spotted. He wishes he had a horse. If he keeps running, he is sure to launch himself into an attack, just like the one that took his mother. But that wouldn’t be the worst thing, so Steve keeps running. He dives off the track into the trees, which are too tightly spaced for horses to follow and keeps going, hearing enraged shouts behind him. At least now they will have to abandon their horses to follow.

“Running will only make it worse!” he hears Rumlow’s sickening voice yelling out at him.

Running is all Steve has. At least he can tell by his voice that Rumlow is not close yet. Steve keeps going, tree branches brushing against him, scratching his hands, his bag shaking on his back. The wind whips against his face, leaving him sniffling. It feels like forever that he runs. His body for once is not betraying him and is continuing to move, maybe out of pure adrenaline and fear, but the men have bigger and faster strides and are gaining on him.

It is getting dark out now, but the light is suddenly increasing as Steve finds himself reaching the other side of the forest and he abruptly stops, his eyes widening. He must have run at least two miles, a feat that seems impossible for him, but he knows it is true, because there, across the grass plain, is the maze.

Steve has never seen it with his own eyes, but his mother and the townspeople told stories of it. Steve had never realised how huge it was. He can see the beginnings of the maze from his slightly higher vantage point, but he cannot see the end—it appears to go on infinitely.

His moment of shock ruins his lead. Rumlow bursts from the tree-line, Steve whipping his head round at the noise, as Rumlow lets out a growl. Steve hears an involuntary cry from his own mouth, before he runs down the slight hill, Rumlow and now the others, right behind him.

Steve scans the landscape as he runs, desperately searching for somewhere that doesn’t exist. There is no salvation here. They will catch him now, whichever way he runs. He no longer even has the option of killing himself—he would have no time before they grabbed him.

As he gets within a few feet of the edge of the maze, he realises his only option. He runs along, looking desperately for an entrance. He cries out in pain as his body finally fails him, tripping over its own feet, and that small stumble allows Rumlow to grab him. Steve cries out but grabs his knife from his boot as he stumbles, turning and thrusting it into Rumlow’s thigh. He’s never stabbed someone before and it’s grotesque, the feeling of the knife going in, but it’s instinct—it’s what he has to do. The monster lets out a cry of pain and curses him and it is enough for him to let go, Steve yanking the knife back out and running again, hoping it really hurts.

He twists his head to see some of the men helping Rumlow, and others continuing the chase. But they are too late now. Steve has seen it. A gap in the hedge a few feet ahead. He doesn’t pause. It is his only option. He runs into the maze.

He hears the shocked gasps of the men as he stops a few metres in, turning, breathing heavily, and sees them standing a few feet back from the entrance, completely aghast. Rumlow appears, limping, another man holding him up. His face is a picture. Steve will enjoy remembering that look as long as he can.

“It’s not too late, you can still come back out!” one of the men yells at him. He actually sounds concerned.

“I’m fine in here!” Steve yells back, feeling almost giddy. He won’t be taken now. He’s beaten them. Him. Little Steve, that everyone except his mother thought useless, has beaten the castle’s strongest men.

“You would have liked it. We would have taken care of you real nice,” Rumlow snarls. “What a fucking waste.” He actually sounds, well, not sad, but disappointed to say the least.

“I choose death over you!” Steve yells back, unable to fight the smile on his face.

Rumlow looks like he’s about to snarl a reply except Steve doesn’t get to hear it because the hedges of the maze suddenly move in front of his eyes and the entrance is closed off. The men are no longer there—he can’t even hear them. And Steve’s giddiness evaporates into resignation, because now it is over.

No one goes into the maze. Because no one ever comes out.


	2. Boredom is the slowest and most painful way to die

Nothing happens. Steve doesn’t know what he expected to happen, but nothing does. He stands there waiting for the end, but all that happens is it grows darker. The stars will be coming out soon.

The hedges around him are at least ten or fifteen feet tall—he can barely see the top of them, but he can see the sky above. That’s a small comfort. He can imagine his mother watching him. He hopes she understands his choice. He’d rather die here than be defiled by those monsters.

After a while of standing, waiting for something that doesn’t happen, he sits on the ground. It’s hard, but strangely warm. He’s too preoccupied to puzzle over that now though. He fumbles in his bag for the water he carried with him and a small bread roll. He is famished, what with the running for his life.

As he eats, he thinks back to the stories his mother told him about the maze. Everyone in the town tells stories about the maze. The maze has always existed. That is, no one can ever remember a time that it wasn’t here. Books passed on through families make reference to it, but no one knows how it came into being. What they do know is that people have tried to explore it, and those people never come back. No one who has ever stepped one foot into the maze has ever come back.

The townspeople warn their children from a young age that they can never go into the maze. They are kept away from it at all costs. It sounds like a myth and that’s what it was to Steve until he saw that hedge move and shut him in, like magic. But that was always part of the story—the magic.

Because people have tried to destroy the maze, fearing it to be too dangerous, but all attempts have failed. When they tried to light the hedges on fire, the flame simply would not catch. When they tried to chop it down, every chopped piece grew back in seconds. The maze is indestructible. So the only option the town has is to stay away. And now Steve has run straight into it.

His mother always said he was impulsive. He laughs to himself a little at that. It doesn’t take long for the laugh to become a cry. For the first time in the three days since her death, tears stream down Steve’s face. There is no one here to see it, so Steve lets go. He cries and cries until his small body is exhausted and he falls asleep on the warm ground. He does not expect he’ll be alive come morning.

 

 

Steve blinks awake to see hard, cracked, brown dirt right next to his face. He lifts his head and remembers. He’s lying on the ground of the maze. It’s daylight, which means he survived the night. As he sits up and stretches, he starts to wonder. Maybe people who go into the maze don’t just die. Maybe they are simply trapped and starve to death. So maybe Steve has condemned himself to a slow and painful death. It does frighten him, but he would still make the choice a hundred times over. He decides it is best not to think about it. He is still here and maybe he won’t be for long, but until that time, he will not just lie down. He may as well see if there is anything in this maze.

Steve pulls out some of his mother’s honey cake. She had made it the evening before she died. It’s starting to go stale, but it’s perfect in Steve’s eyes. He looks up at the sky and thanks her, for she is still taking care of him even now. After a small sip of water, because Steve figures he should try to preserve that as long as possible, he gets up and pulls his bag back onto his shoulders.

He stares up at the huge hedge. It’s extremely unlikely, but he supposes he should give climbing it a try.

It’s less than pointless. He cannot get a grip on the hedge and not just because he’s an inept climber. The branches practically slide away under his hands. Climbing is not an option.

There is only one way to go—the three-foot wide path leads in for a little way before Steve can see where it makes a turn. He takes a breath, steeling himself, and then starts walking.

If he had been paying more attention, he would have noticed that the knife he’d left on the ground was now missing.

 

 

It turns out that the reason people die in the maze is because of pure boredom.

Steve has been walking for god knows how long now and every single section of the maze looks the same. He tried to keep track of the turns he chose, but eventually gave up when there were just too many to continue writing in the little notebook he has with him. He’s certain any kind of marking he leaves on the ground will disappear, so he doesn’t bother. So he trudges along the repetitive maze. It feels like the air doesn’t ever reach him—there’s no wind to speak of, but somehow the air feels clean rather than musty and smells like pine. The dead silence of the maze is what disconcerts him the most. All he hears is the sound of his own movement and nothing else, not even a bird singing.

When the sun is high and he figures it’s lunchtime, he sits down and digs out some more bread, washing it down with another sip of water. He relieves himself against the hedge, because where else is he going to go, and then moves along a bit further. He’s restless and doesn’t feel like stopping for long right now.

He turns a corner and that’s when he startles as he hears it. A ferocious growl. It’s loud, like it’s nearby. It doesn’t sound like a dog or even a wolf. It sounds bigger. Steve doesn’t know what to do. He could run back the other way, but what would be the point? He’ll die when his water or food runs out anyway, so why not get eaten by some large animal? he thinks morbidly.

So Steve keeps going. He doesn’t hear the growl again though. After a while of more twists and turns and never-ending hedges, he sits back down on the ground. He’s tired and his feet hurt. He finishes the rest of the honey cake and drinks a bit more water than he means to. He pulls out his notepad and pencil and starts sketching. Maybe one day someone will come in here and find the notebook, if not his body. He draws his mother. He wants her to be remembered.

The ground is still warm. He takes off his boots and socks and rests his feet. The warmth of the ground seems to seep into them, easing their achiness. He’s thankful for whatever weird magic means the maze is warm.

Two days later, it’s the only thing he’s thankful for. He’s out of water. He has only morsels of food left, and the maze is never-ending. There has been no change to his scenery in three days and his mind is growing tired of it. He feels he might be going mad.

He figures this is it, he should probably just give up now and lie down and wait for death to reunite him with his mother. But he doesn’t. Because while he might be little, and while his whole life people have seen him as nothing, he is stubborn. So he will keep going until he truly can’t keep going any longer.

He continues walking until the sky grows dark again. He decides why bother sleeping. The last of his water is gone. If he exhausts himself to the point of collapse, that might be better than dying of dehydration. So he keeps going. And going. And going.

He’s singing softly to himself—an old song his mother used to sing to him—as he gets to another fork and turns left. Then another left and then...then Steve can’t believe what he’s seeing.

There, in the middle of another path in the maze, is a fountain. It’s small and made of stone and the water shoots up and cascades down into a small pool round the base. The water is shimmering in the moonlight, sparkling with the promise of salvation.

Steve runs to it. He doesn’t stop to think how, why, is it safe...? He leans over and drinks and god, it’s a relief. The water is cool, but not cold, and Steve drinks until he has to stop himself so he doesn’t get sick. Then he pulls out his water container and fills it to the brim.

He drinks just a little more and then sinks down to the ground next to the fountain. The water helps his hunger somehow, and he lies down, exhausted.

When he wakes in the morning, the fountain is gone.

 

 

Steve thinks long and hard and arrives at an explanation. The maze is just _weird_. A fountain that appears and disappears? That’s just crazy. But he knows it was there because his water container is still full.

He drags himself up, takes care of his business, and continues on, a little more hopeful. Perhaps he’ll find a man making bread just around the corner, he giggles to himself. While he’s used to being alone, he’s never been alone this long. It’s starting to wear on him, not having anyone to talk to. So as he walks, he starts singing again. He sings loudly this time. He’s past worrying something might hear him.

Still, he doesn’t expect to hear that creature’s growl again. He startles. It sounded nearer this time. He stands and waits. Again, nothing happens, so he continues on and resumes his singing.

The next sound he hears is even more disturbing. It’s a small choked giggle. Barely there, but Steve hears it between lines of his song. It’s too short for him to make much of it, but he knows it’s a person.

“Hello?” he calls out. There’s no response. He tries again. He starts walking faster, figuring maybe they are nearby and he can catch them. “Please, don’t be scared, I won’t hurt you, I just...please come out!” he continues to call, but it’s pointless. No one appears.

He feels abruptly devastated. He sinks to the ground. Maybe he imagined the noise, he tells himself, but he doesn’t believe that. There’s someone here but they won’t come out. He lets himself cry. It’s probably the most he’s ever cried in such a short space of time, but he’s tired of being strong.

When his tears dry up, he realises just how hungry he is. He sips water to try and quell it, but it doesn’t help. He’s so hungry now.

At the next turning, he starts to believe the maze can read his mind.

There is a table, right there in the middle of the path. A little wooden table, only big enough for two people to sit at, at a push, if it had chairs, and it’s covered in food. He runs towards it, eyes widening. There is bread and cheese and fruit and cakes and things he and his mother could never afford.

Steve shovels bread into his mouth, grabbing for other items even as he does and shoves them into his face too. He has to slow down and remember to chew. He coughs and almost chokes for a second before calming himself down. He eats and eats, more than he’s ever eaten in one sitting before. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he’s grateful.

“Thank you,” he calls out, unsure of who he’s even thanking. Maybe he’s thanking the maze as an entity or maybe he’s thanking the giggling voice or maybe even the growling creature, but whomever or whatever it is, he’s thanking it.

Steve starts packing up the food as soon as he feels full. He figures the table will probably disappear like the fountain, so he takes everything and suddenly things are looking up. He has enough food to last days and still enough water for a couple of days—more if he rations a bit better.

He feels excited until he realises...why does it matter? He has food and water, but what is he staying alive for? He thinks he’s been in here for four days, maybe five—he’s not sure anymore—and there still appears to be no way out. He could, in fact, be walking in circles and not know it. He laughs to himself, picturing his mother watching him going round and round, and how she would tease him. And then he realises. He is staying alive for his mother. Because she would want him to go on. So he will. He will go on.

 

 

It’s another few days of the same. He walks and he eats food from his bag and drinks the water in his container. He sketches some more. He sings to himself again and listens, but there’s no noise in response. At night, he lies on the warm ground and sleeps easily and well. He starts to think that as long as the fountain and table come back, he’s a lot better off here than he would have been in town, even if he _had_ been able to find work.

The fountain doesn’t return though. As he trudges along, turning another corner, singing a lullaby his mother sang to him, he lifts his eyes from his feet and freezes.

“Hello.”

Steve promptly passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos so far :D Let me know your thoughts? Next chapter on Tuesday x


	3. Who the hell is Bucky?

Steve wakes to something sharp poking him in the cheek. He swats at it with his hand as he blinks his eyes open.

He’s being poked with a stick. It stops as soon as his eyes open and, as he lurches up to sitting, the boy holding the stick backs away. Because there is a boy holding the stick. There is another person in the maze and he is looking at Steve.

Steve must have hit his head hard because the first thing he says is “where did you get a stick?”

The boy giggles and it’s the same giggle as before.

“I heard you before!” Steve exclaims, getting to his feet, rubbing the back of his head, feeling the dirt that’s made its way into his hair. “Have you been watching me?”

The boy doesn’t reply, but the smile leaves his face. Steve takes a moment to really look at him. He is very beautiful. That is Steve’s first thought. Steve has never seen a face like his. It’s got lines he wants to draw and memorise, from his defined cheekbones to his perfect jaw, and he wishes he had colours with him to get that cold stormy blue of his eyes down on paper. He seems to be about his age, Steve would guess, but he looks how most boys Steve’s age look—bigger and stronger and taller. He has chin-length brown hair that’s doing a remarkable impression of a bird’s nest right now, but somehow still looks good, and he’s dressed in similar clothes to Steve—beige pants and an off-white shirt, except his are clean while Steve’s are covered in dirt.

“Who are you?” Steve asks. He starts to wonder if maybe the boy can’t speak because it doesn’t seem like he’s going to reply until...

“Bucky,” the boy says steadily.

“Bucky,” Steve repeats. “I’m Steve.” He wonders if he should be scared, but he isn’t. Bucky doesn’t look like a threat.

“Steve,” the boy parrots back, smiling slightly as though testing the name on his tongue.

“So…were you?” Steve presses.

“Was I what?” Bucky asks, with a tilt of his head, his eyes curious.

“Watching me?”

Bucky’s face remains impassive for a moment, before a tight-lipped smile makes its way onto his face. He looks as though he is trying not to laugh. “Maybe,” he states, his eyes sparkling.

Steve finds that infuriating. “Why? Why didn’t you come out when I asked?” he demands. He’s aware he’s doing that thing his mother called being headstrong. He can’t help himself. It’s gotten him in trouble more than once in his life.

Bucky’s face falls. “I wasn’t sure you were safe,” he mumbles, looking at the ground.

Steve suddenly feels bad. He can understand being afraid of people, even though he probably has more reason to be afraid of Bucky than Bucky does to be afraid of him. Steve relaxes a little. “I won’t hurt you, I promise,” he tells Bucky, offering a small smile, which Bucky returns just slightly. “Are you hungry? I have some food.” He’s already reaching for his bag.

“No, I have food,” Bucky says.

Steve frowns. “You do?” Bucky doesn’t have a bag or anything with him except the stick. In fact, he’s not even got shoes on. “How long have you been in here?” Steve asks, suddenly concerned that maybe Bucky has been here a lot longer than he has.

“Always.”

Steve blinks. “A...always?”

“Yes,” Bucky confirms.

“I...I don’t understand,” Steve stutters, trying to get his head around it.

“I live here,” Bucky says simply.

“In the maze?” Steve thinks his heart might be breaking because how could someone possibly live here?

Bucky nods. “Do you want to come home with me?” His eyes look wide and hopeful, like he really hopes Steve says yes.

“Home?” Steve questions, not understanding. Does he have a favourite path in the maze or something?

“Where I sleep,” Bucky clarifies.

“I...uh...okay,” Steve says, because what else can he say?

Bucky smiles a little wider and starts walking immediately, running the stick along the hedges as he goes and Steve stumbles forward to quickly catch up. They take two rights and a left and another right and Steve starts to open his mouth to speak except then they are in a clearing. And when he thinks clearing, he means an expanse of space at least twenty times bigger than the normal paths of the maze and it’s got a little house, right there in the middle of it.

Steve’s mouth falls open in shock. Bucky continues walking up to the moss green front door of the little one-storey stone house, then turns and waits for Steve, who shakes himself out of being frozen and stumbles forward until he’s just behind Bucky. This is just so strange, Steve’s having trouble taking it in. Everything feels surreal.

“Please don’t touch anything without asking,” Bucky requests, and Steve thinks that’s a strange request for a house in a maze, but he nods as Bucky opens the door and leads him inside.

The house is small. It’s just one room, but it is full to bursting with what Steve can only call junk. There’s a pile of sticks in one corner, near a wardrobe, another corner with books piled high. There seems to be a collection of rocks on the floor and a pile of shiny things over by the one bed in the room. Shiny things like rings and some money, Steve realises.

Both the walls and floor are made of stone and they are remarkably clean. There’s also a tub over in another corner and a little kitchen area that looks well-stocked with food. Steve can feel the warmth coming from the large fireplace to his left, currently lit, along with a number of candles around the room. Other than that, there is a table in the middle of the room, heaped with what looks like a variety of weapons. Steve gets a little bit nervous after that, but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice. There’s also a pile of blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, depressed in the middle as though someone’s been sitting on them, and Steve wonders why, as surely Bucky must sleep in the bed.

“Does anyone else live here?” Steve asks.

“No.” Bucky puts the stick he’s holding down with the rest of the sticks. At least he’s organised in his mess.

“Are you tired?” Bucky asks him, when he turns back around to look at Steve.

Steve has no idea what time it is. He’s not actually that tired. He’s been sleeping well, all things considered. He shakes his head.

Bucky frowns. “I’ll let you sleep in the bed.”

Steve wonders about the look on his face and thinks maybe this is Bucky trying to be his friend. “Thank you. I’d like that, but maybe later?” he offers, and it seems to appease Bucky.

“Food?” Bucky offers.

Steve’s still got some. He pats his bag. “I actually found some a few days ago.” Then he realises. “Wait. Was that you? Did you leave food for me?”

Bucky turns red. He drops his head as if he’s been caught out. “I...you were hungry.”

Steve is grateful but confused. “And the fountain?”

Bucky nods.

Steve wants to ask how he moved the fountain, because it was definitely too heavy to move by himself, but he decides not to ask yet. He thinks he needs to ease into this. “Thank you,” he says instead, because Bucky basically saved his life. He doesn’t know why he did, but he’s grateful for it.

Bucky raises his head and smiles. He looks pleased with himself. “I knew it,” he grins.

Steve’s confused. “Knew what?”

“That you were good. I knew it when you sang,” Bucky says gleefully.

Steve singing is what made Bucky show himself? His mother really is still taking care of him. “They were songs my mother sang to me,” he explains.

Bucky looks interested, but Steve doesn’t want to tell him anymore than that right now. “They were pretty,” Bucky tells him. “They made my heart beat.”

Steve’s not really sure what that means, because he sure hopes Bucky’s heart is always beating, but he’s happy he liked them. He feels like he would have gone crazy without someone else to talk to, so thank god his singing made Bucky show himself.

“I know!” Bucky suddenly exclaims, and Steve almost jumps. “You need a bath!”

“Umm...” Steve is embarrassed. He probably does need a bath. He hopes Bucky isn’t smelling him from the few feet away they are from each other. He looks at his hands and the state of his nails, dirt embedded under them so the tips are almost black, and he feels like a pauper next to Bucky.

“I will pour it,” Bucky tells him, already moving to the tub.

Steve decides to just let Bucky do that, as he seems so pleased about it. “Umm...is there a privy?” he asks.

Bucky stops. “Yes, outside, on the side of the house. Only go there and straight back,” he warns, and Steve wonders where Bucky thinks he’ll go. It’s not like he’s missing the endless hedge paths right now.

When Steve returns, Bucky already has the tub full, and from the looks of the steam coming from it, it’s hot too. Steve vaguely wonders how he heated the water so fast but decides he doesn’t care, because the bath looks amazing.

Bucky comes up to him, a grin on his face, and gives Steve a bar of soap and a washcloth, by placing them on the table in front of him. Then he just stands there.

“Umm, could I have some privacy?” Steve asks nicely. He’s never been comfortable being naked by himself, let alone around other people.

Bucky tilts his head. “Privacy?” he questions. “Oh!” he suddenly startles. “Yes. I will go outside until you are in the tub,” he says decisively, already moving.

“You don’t have to go out...” Steve starts but Bucky is already gone, closing the door behind him.

Steve sort of wants to look through Bucky’s things now he has a minute alone, but he said he wouldn’t so instead he undresses, leaving his clothes in a pile next to his bag, carefully placing his mother’s necklace on top, and slides slowly into the tub. It’s just the right edge of hot and Steve hisses as he lowers himself in. It feels wonderful. He hadn’t really realized how sore his legs had become from all the endless wandering through the maze.

Bucky knocks, opening the door, and Steve looks to see he has a hand over his eyes. “Are you private now?” he asks.

Steve chuckles. The tub is deep enough to hide his body, except for his bony shoulders and well, Bucky’s seen how skinny he is anyway. “Yes, thank you.”

Bucky moves his hand and seems strangely delighted to see Steve in the tub. “It’s good?”

“Yes, it’s great, thank you.” Steve then realises he’s left the soap and cloth on the table. “Oh, I forgot...could you pass me those?” he asks, gesturing.

Bucky nods and picks them up with one hand, then seems to be in a conundrum for a moment. Then he holds them in one hand, covers his eyes with the other, walks in a straight line and drops them into the tub when his leg bangs into the edge.

The soap thunks against Steve’s knee, but he still thanks Bucky, who has now turned back and moved to the table, uncovering his eyes.

Steve starts to wash himself and it’s a little weird because even though Bucky can’t see anything but his shoulders from there, he’s watching him bathe and that’s kind of strange.

“Clothes!” Bucky exclaims and Steve drops the soap into the tub in surprise. “I will give you new ones,” he says, as though talking to himself. He opens the wardrobe and pulls out some things and then spends what Steve thinks is a terrifically long time deciding between them. When he’s chosen, he places them on the bed.

Bucky looks like he’s about to ask something, when a growl interrupts them. It’s the same growl from the same creature. Steve tenses, but Bucky just looks a little sad and says “oh”.

“I need to go,” he tells Steve.

Steve frowns. “Wait, do you know what that was?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He looks upset that he’s leaving. “Please don’t touch anything,” he implores Steve. “Unless you are hungry, you may eat anything,” he adds.

Steve nods. “I won’t. I promise,” he says, and this seems to make Bucky happy. He’s so curious to know what that noise is and where Bucky’s going, but he supposes he needs to earn Bucky’s trust first. Maybe he’ll open up to Steve if he trusts him.

Bucky smiles. “I know. Because you’re good,” he says simply and then he leaves.

Steve figures he’ll wait in the tub until he returns. The water feels great and he soaps himself down so he’s extra clean, picking out the dirt from under his nails and scrubbing at his hair to get it clean again. It’s only when the water is tepid that he realises he needs to get out and Bucky’s not back yet. He’s a little concerned. He gets out the tub and finds Bucky left him a towel there on the floor besides the tub, so he wraps that around himself.

He dries off and moves to the bed and pulls on the clothes Bucky left him. They are fancy—far softer than anything he’s worn before—the shirt is dark green and feels amazing and velvety against his skin and the pants are beige but also soft. For the first time since he entered the maze, he feels safe, which is stupid because he doesn’t know Bucky and Bucky could come back and use one of those weapons on the table on Steve, but for some reason, Steve trusts that he won’t. Because he thinks Bucky is good too.


	4. I go through life one heart attack at a time

Steve wakes to find a face inches from his. “Jesus!” he startles, jerking upright on the bed where he fell asleep.

Bucky frowns at him. He points at himself. “Bucky, remember?”

Steve calms down and chuckles at the look on his face. “Sorry. I know. You just scared me.”

“I’m scary?” Bucky asks, looking thoughtful from where he’s kneeling on the floor.

“No, you just surprised me I mean,” Steve explains.

“Oh,” Bucky says. “I’m sorry.” He stands up. “You slept,” he comments.

Steve nods and sits up fully, stretching out his legs a little. “Thank you for letting me use your bed.”

Bucky beams at him. Steve is starting to realise that Bucky likes it when Steve says thank you.

“Everything okay wherever you went?” he asks.

Bucky doesn’t answer. “I like your necklace,” he comments instead.

Steve looks down at his chest where the necklace has escaped his shirt. “It’s my mother’s,” he tells Bucky, an ache in his chest. With the excitement of meeting Bucky, he almost, for the smallest second, managed to forget. Except not really. That ache is there always. Constant.

“It’s important then,” Bucky states. “You should keep it safe, don’t let anyone have it.”

Steve wonders who exactly would take it but tucks it back under his shirt, his hand tightly holding the small circular symbol that hangs from the chain, for just a moment. He gets out of bed and follows Bucky over to the table.

Bucky moves backwards as Steve gets nearer.

“Is that my knife?” Steve asks, suddenly noticing one of the weapons laying there on the tabletop. It looks like his and still has blood on it. Rumlow’s blood.

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s my knife now.”

Steve frowns. Bucky is so weird. “When did you get that?” Steve can’t remember having it after the first night he spent in the maze, now he thinks about it.

Bucky just shrugs at him. Steve reaches out to pick up the knife, intending on packing it back into his bag, but Bucky darts forward and grabs a—holy shit, Steve’s heart starts beating wildly—an actual sword, and now he’s pointing it at Steve.

“You said you wouldn’t touch,” Bucky says, his voice shaking, but his sword steady.

Steve has raised his hands in a sign of surrender. “I wasn’t...I just...it’s my knife, I wanted it back,” he stutters, trying to remain calm. Bucky looks upset, but he doesn’t look murderous.

“It’s my knife. Everything here is mine. Understand?” He shakes his head sadly. “If you don’t, then you’ll have to go, and I don’t want that.”

Steve doesn’t want that either, so he agrees. “I understand,” he says carefully. “I won’t try to touch anything again. I’m sorry.”

Bucky switches back to his happy face, placing the sword down, and continues on as though nothing happened. “What do you need?” he asks.

“Need?” Steve asks. He’s a little flummoxed by the sudden change in topic.

“Food or drink or privacy or baths or sleep or knives...” Bucky says, as though listing things from the world’s weirdest checklist.

“Information,” Steve settles on.

Bucky squints his eyes at Steve. “Information?” he puzzles. Then he does that excited startle he does, before Steve can speak, and moves over to the pile of books. He yanks a book out of the middle of the stack, dislodging everything, and books tumble to the floor, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t care. He holds the book by the corner with his thumb and forefinger. “This is my biggest book. It has the most information,” he smiles. He puts the book down on the table and gives it a little shove in Steve’s direction.

“No, I mean information from you, about this place and who you are?” Steve explains.

Bucky frowns. He speaks very slowly when he opens his mouth and points a finger at himself. “I’m Bucky,” he says, overly pronouncing each syllable. “I live here.” He looks around the room and gestures to it, speaking as though Steve is an idiot.

Steve sighs without meaning to. “I know that, I mean how did you get here? I lived in the town just over the hill before I ran in here,” he explains.

“I told you. I’ve always been here,” Bucky frowns at him.

“You were born in the maze?” Steve asks. It seems insane.

Bucky shrugs in a very unbothered sort of way. “I don’t know.”

Steve decides to abandon that line of questioning, seeing as it’s not getting him anywhere. “What about the maze? Do you know a way out? Are there any other people in here or houses like yours?”

“A way out?” Bucky repeats. “You want to leave?” He sounds surprised and he furrows his brow again.

“Well, yes.” Steve’s now the one surprised, because of course he would be looking for a way out, why would Bucky think he wouldn’t be? “Is there a way?”

Bucky waits a moment and then shrugs again, his face neutral. “I don’t know.”

Steve is getting frustrated again. “What about other houses or people?” he pushes.

“This is the only house,” Bucky says, and he pushes some of the weapons over a little, out the way, and sits on the table, legs swinging, hands gripping the edge. “Sometimes there are people.”

“There are?” Steve breathes. The rumours about the maze must not be true then.

“Not so much anymore,” Bucky states. “They used to come in groups. Now just sometimes ones like you.”

Steve lets out a breath, a little disappointed. “What happens to them? Do they get out?”

“No,” Bucky says simply. “They all die.” He says this as though they are discussing the weather.

Steve looks at his weapon collection, suddenly not so sure that Bucky is good. “Do you...do you kill them?” he can’t help asking.

“Me?” Bucky asks, pointing at himself, his eyebrows raised, as though the very thought is preposterous to him. “No.” He points at the things on the table. “These belonged to them.”

Steve realises then that maybe a lot of the things Bucky has piled up in his house are things from dead people—things he’s gathered after people have died in the maze. It’s pretty creepy, but he believes Bucky when he says he doesn’t kill them. It’s creepy, but he’s still curious.

“Have you helped people before, like you helped me?” he asks.

Bucky giggles abruptly, in a short burst of sound. “No.”

“Why me then?” Steve asks, because for once in his life he feels special and he wants to know why.

Bucky looks like he’s blushing, and he looks down at his swinging legs before glancing back at Steve. “Because…” Bucky says with a shy smile, “you made my heart beat.”

 

 

Steve quizzes Bucky on the maze, but Bucky has no real answers for him. He’s not stupid. He can tell when Bucky’s being deliberately evasive with him, but he lets it go. There is no point pushing him. For now.

Bucky’s comment about his heart beating stays with Steve though. He doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Are there any other parts of the maze that aren’t just hedges?” Steve asks, while he eats a sandwich piled high with meat and cheese that Bucky insisted upon. Bucky even cleared the weapons entirely to one side of the table so Steve could sit and eat there.

Bucky is eating his own sandwich across from him. “Like what?” he mumbles around his food.

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugs. “Like a garden or something.” He’s not really sure what he means to be honest. What _would_ a maze have in it? But he didn’t expect a house in the maze, so who knew what could be in here.

“Like flowers?” Bucky asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Never mind,” Steve mumbles.

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Bucky says decisively, finishing the last bite of his sandwich.

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised, then realises he’s not sure what Bucky’s going to show him, but oh well. As long as it’s not endless maze paths, he’s sure he’ll be interested.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Bucky asks.

“Umm...blue,” Steve replies. He’s getting used to the way Bucky will say something completely unrelated to the previous topic as though it’s the obvious next strand of conversation.

“My eyes are blue,” he states, gazing over at Steve, looking like he’s making his eyes as wide as he can, and Steve notices how long and dark his eyelashes are.

“Um, yes,” Steve agrees.

“So are yours. But they’re more blue. Brighter,” Bucky comments, staring deeply into Steve’s eyes.

“Um, I suppose so,” Steve agrees. He feels awkward, having Bucky’s fierce attention on him like that. “Where do you get your food from?” Steve asks, changing the subject the way Bucky does.

Bucky looks down at his plate. “I find it,” he comments lightly.

“You find it?” Steve questions. “What do you mean?”

Bucky shrugs. “It just turns up.” He gets up abruptly and moves over to the kitchen area, lifting Steve’s plate as he goes. “Time for bed,” he states.

Steve looks round at him, still puzzling about the food comment and what “it just turns up” even means. “What time is it?” He’s lost track of time here now. He wonders how Bucky knows what time it is.

“Nighttime,” Bucky replies simply, turning and leaning against the counter. “You can sleep in the bed,” he offers.

“Oh, no, I already napped there and it’s yours, you should take it,” Steve argues as he stands up.

“It _is_ mine,” Bucky agrees. “But you will sleep there.” He says it with such finality that Steve gives in.

“Okay. Thank you.” He _is_ tired, even though he napped. He’s had a stressful and weird day. Hopefully tomorrow will make more sense.

Bucky moves around the room extinguishing candles until the room is almost in darkness except for the remaining light from the dying fire. Bucky moves over to the pile of blankets on the floor at the foot of the bed, just as the creature lets out another growl, except this time it sounds more like a whine.

Steve jumps a little and Bucky laughs at him. “You know what that is, don’t you?” Steve frowns as he sits on the bed.

Bucky plops himself down in the pile of blankets, still giggling to himself, but doesn’t answer. He curls up like a cat and shuts his eyes.

Steve stares at him for a moment and then sighs to himself and pulls the bedcovers over himself as he lies down. This has got to be the strangest thing that has ever happened to him, but he’s okay. At least he’s a lot better off than he thought he’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos :) I hope you're enjoying this little fic! x


	5. How big is this maze? Like, seriously

Steve wakes up to a stick poking him again.

“You sleep for a long time,” Bucky tells him, from where he’s standing by the bed. 

Steve groans. “What time is it?” He can’t say he appreciates Bucky’s method of waking him, especially when he had been having the best sleep he’d had in days. 

“Morning time,” Bucky replies. “I made food,” he says, pointing at the table.

Steve rubs the sleep out of his eyes and looks over. Bucky has placed two bowls of what looks like fruit on the table, along with a fork and spoon besides each and there’s a little tablecloth underneath them, covering that half of the table. It’s yellow and white checkered and looks strange placed next to the knives, swords, axes and clubs on the other half of the table. 

“I’ll just go out to, um, use the…" Steve mumbles as he gets up. 

“Yes. Do that. Come right back,” Bucky agrees, backing away and returning his stick to his pile of sticks. 

When Steve returns, Bucky is sitting at the table waiting for him. Steve sits across from him and looks in wonder at the fruit. There are things in the bowl he doesn’t even recognise, but he finds they are all delicious as he and Bucky eat together. 

“Do you need another bath or fresh clothes?” Bucky asks between bites. 

Steve shakes his head. He feels perfectly clean still. 

“Oh good. We can go out when we finish eating then,” Bucky smiles. He seems eager to start their day.

Steve is intrigued as to where they’ll be going, so he eats the rest of his fruit quickly and downs the glass of water Bucky left him. 

Bucky finishes his food and goes to his stick pile, seemingly taking great care over deciding which one to take with him. “Ready?” he asks, turning to Steve.

Steve sort of wants to ask if he can have a stick too, just to see what would happen but he doesn’t. “Should I bring anything?” he asks. 

“No,” Bucky states plainly, and he opens the door and Steve follows him out. 

The sun is high in the sky—it must be late in the morning already. It’s warm, but not hot, and Steve realises it has not rained yet while he’s been in the maze, even though it is nearing fall, which is the town’s rainiest season usually. 

There are multiple paths leading away from Bucky’s house into the hedges and Bucky strides towards the one opposite and furthest left. Steve follows after him. Bucky seems perfectly happy as he moves through the paths with intent. He obviously knows where he’s going. 

“So, um, Bucky. Do you have a last name?” Steve asks, figuring he can use this time to get to know Bucky better. 

Bucky pauses and turns. “A last name?”

“Yes. Mine is Rogers,” Steve says. 

Bucky looks confused for a moment. “I’m Bucky,” he states again and then continues striding forward. 

Steve sighs to himself. Just the one name then. “How old are you?” he follows up.

“Your age?” Bucky replies, but it sounds like a question rather than an answer. He twirls the stick round in his hand as he walks. 

“Do you...have you ever talked to...another person?” Steve asks carefully. 

Bucky stops again. “I’m talking to you,” he says, backing up slightly when Steve stops a couple of feet from him. 

“Except me?” Steve clarifies. Bucky seems to be skilled at avoiding questions or not completely understanding them. Steve isn’t sure which it is.

“Yes,” Bucky states. “But no.” He swishes his stick against the dirt path, watching it. “We talk. They yell,” he explains. 

“Who yells?” Steve asks, suddenly concerned for Bucky. 

“The people who come in here. They yell before they die,” Bucky says, looking up and chewing on his bottom lip. 

Oh. Steve gets it now. Bucky hasn’t really talked to anyone before, but he’s heard people scream when they die in here. It’s...it’s disturbing is what it is. But it makes Bucky easier to understand. That’s why he flits from topic to topic and sometimes doesn’t understand what Steve asks. He’s not had anyone to talk with. Steve wonders how Bucky even learnt to speak but he doubts Bucky knows himself, so he doesn’t ask. He can’t even imagine how lonely Bucky must have been—he truly can’t fathom it. It’s no wonder Bucky is a little strange. Steve is surprised he’s as coherent as he is. 

Bucky starts walking again. “Here!” he declares, and as Steve catches up, they turn into another expanse of space within the maze. 

It’s a huge garden. There are benches and trees and what looks like thousands of flowers and a fountain in the middle, much bigger than the water fountain Steve saw before. He stands looking in awe. 

The flowers are all different shades of blue—some bordering on purple, others leaning to turquoise. The different colours interweave with each other, creating vibrant carpets of flowers all across the space. The trees are huge and still have their leaves and colours, when they should be on their way to be turning shades of brown and gold for fall. The fountain is not like the stone fountain—this one looks like it’s been carved from glass somehow. The water glitters in the sunlight and it reflects on the surface of the fountain. Steve thinks that this all must be part of the magic of the maze. He doesn’t particularly care as to the why or how. It’s the most beautiful place Steve has ever seen. 

When he looks at Bucky, Bucky is smiling like crazy, watching him. “You like it?” he grins. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve breathes out in wonder. 

“We can spend the day here,” Bucky says decisively. 

Steve agrees. Bucky wanders along, reaching down into some of the flowers as he passes them, while Steve follows. He plucks one from the ground—a vibrant and bright blue one—and holds it out to Steve from the very bottom of the stem. 

Steve takes it, surprised, holding just under the head of the flower. “Thank you.”

Bucky grins, eyes bright, and then he keeps wandering along. Steve hears him talking to himself, and he thinks he’s saying something about Steve being “one of the good ones”.

They spend a little while there. Steve sits on a stone bench and loses himself in thought, trying to let the peacefulness of the garden wash over him, while Bucky, continuing his strange behaviour, lies down a few feet away, directly in a patch of flowers. He’s staring at the sky and swinging his stick in the air like he’s conducting music that Steve cannot hear. 

The whingey growl interrupts the peacefulness and Bucky sits up like a shot. 

“I’ll be back,” he says, getting to his feet. 

Steve frowns. “I could come with you,” he offers. He doesn’t know what that noise is or why Bucky leaves when he hears it and he wants to know. 

“No,” Bucky states. It’s clearly not a discussion they’re having. “I’ll bring food back with me,” he offers. 

“Could you...would you mind bringing my notepad and pencil with you when you come back?” Steve asks. “It would be nice to sketch here.”

Bucky looks thoughtful. “Okay.” He strides off with his stick but stops after a few feet, turning back to look at Steve. “Stay here,” he tells him, slight worry in his eyes. 

Steve nods. For now, he has nowhere to go. Soon he hopes Bucky will help him look for a way out, but he figures he needs to build up Bucky’s trust first. Plus it isn’t so bad here. Bucky keeps him better fed than he’s ever been, after all.

 

 

Steve’s starting to get a little bored by the time Bucky returns. He’s carrying a basket with him and has a large book tucked under the other arm and a blanket over his shoulder, still holding his stick in his free hand. 

Steve gets up to join him as Bucky plonks the basket down on the ground and flings the blanket at him. “Put this on the ground,” he tells him with a grin.

Steve unfolds the blanket and does as Bucky asks, laying it out onto the grass.

“I brought a picnic,” Bucky explains with glee. “And this is for you,” he says, and when Steve finishes smoothing out the blanket, he looks to see Bucky holding out what looks to be a large sketchbook and at least twenty pencils in different colours.

Steve feels a happy smile spreading on his face as he looks at them in shock. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, in complete disbelief. “Where did you get them?” he asks as he reaches to take them. 

“They’re mine,” Bucky says, and releases the book and pencils as soon as Steve takes the book, causing the pencils to tumble to the ground. “Sorry!” Bucky squeaks. 

“My fault,” Steve says, because Bucky looks genuinely unhappy about pencils falling down. Steve drops to his knees to gather them up and then places them on top of the sketchbook carefully and sits down properly on the blanket. He’s never had a set this nice before. They look brand new. 

Bucky joins him, staring at the pencils for a moment, before unpacking the basket. There’s more bread and meats and cheeses as Bucky places things on the blanket and then he grins and pulls out a cake. It looks like it’s chocolate cake. Steve has never had chocolate before. It’s such a luxury, only those in the castle can afford it. 

Steve wants to try it straight away, but Bucky starts cutting cheese so Steve waits. He doesn’t want to be rude. “Everything okay with the growler?” he asks instead. 

Bucky pauses in his cutting and lets out a sharp giggle and then clamps his hand over his mouth. He nods, eyes comically wide. 

They eat together, and Steve notices Bucky takes these little glances at him as though checking to make sure Steve likes the food. 

Steve does like the food. In fact, he loves it. He’s more than a little excited when he finishes his savoury food. He looks hopefully at the cake. 

“You want some?” Bucky asks as he notices. 

Steve feels himself go a little red, caught staring at cake. “I’ve never tried chocolate,” he admits longingly. 

Bucky furrows his brow and downturns his mouth like the very idea of that upsets him. He slices a small corner of the cake and lifts it on the edge of the knife, offering it to Steve. “Try.”

Steve takes the piece carefully and puts it in his mouth. Chocolate is beyond delicious. It’s practically sinful. Steve can’t help but moan in delight at the flavour. 

Bucky looks like he’s anxious to hear what Steve thinks even though Steve would have thought the moan he made was self-explanatory. “It’s incredible,” Steve tells him. 

Bucky looks like he might explode with happiness. He takes the knife, chops the whole cake in half and pushes half towards Steve a little. 

Steve’s about to ask him to chop it into smaller pieces when Bucky lifts his large half in his hand and bites into it. So Steve shrugs internally and does the same. 

He feels kind of sick when he’s done but Bucky looks so pleased that Steve doesn’t care about being a bit too full. Plus when has he ever had the luxury of being full enough?

“Are you good at drawing?” Bucky asks as they sit there, Bucky cross-legged, watching Steve. 

“I’m okay,” Steve says modestly. It’s the one thing he’s actually good at. Too bad the town has no need for artists.

“Can you draw me?” Bucky requests. 

“Umm, sure,” Steve says, and Bucky preens. He sits up a little straighter and then goes perfectly still. 

Steve picks up the book and selects one of the lead pencils. He thinks Bucky will tire of sitting like that soon, but he doesn’t. He stays that way for ages as Steve sketches. 

Steve tries to capture the delicate details of Bucky’s face, like the way his eyes crinkle a little in the corners when he smiles, and the little bump on his ear, and the little cleft in his chin. He takes his time over his slightly wavy almost shoulder-length hair. Bucky really is very beautiful. Steve could stare at him all day.

When he’s finally done, he adds just a touch of colour to Bucky’s eyes. The blue isn’t quite the right shade, but Steve thinks he’d have trouble matching that colour even if he had a thousand blues at his disposal. 

“Okay,” Steve says and turns the book towards Bucky, passing him it. 

Bucky takes it by the edges carefully and looks down at Steve’s sketch, his eyes poring over it. “It’s very good,” he states softly. 

“Thank you,” Steve blushes. 

“This is mine, so I will keep it,” Bucky says decisively. He rips the page out carefully. “You can keep the book,” he says, giving it back to Steve. 

“Thanks,” Steve smiles, a little amused. 

When they finally leave the garden to head back to the house, Bucky carries the sketch like it is precious, holding it carefully in both hands, his stick tucked under one armpit. He lets Steve carry the basket, blanket, and sketchbook and pencils back. Steve is touched that Bucky seems to treasure the picture so much. 

When they get to the house, Bucky puts the sketch away in the wardrobe and turns to Steve. “What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Umm, what is there to do around here?” Steve asks, because he really does wonder what Bucky spends his days doing. 

“What do you want to do?” Bucky asks again. 

“Maybe we could look to see if there’s a way out of here?” Steve suggests carefully, figuring it’s worth a shot. 

Bucky furrows his brow. “Why?”

“Well, so we can leave,” Steve says, stating the obvious. 

Bucky’s face falls. “Don’t you like it here?” He stares at Steve with big eyes that look full of hurt. 

Steve knows he’s messed up. “No, I do, I just...it would be good to find out,” he tries to explain. 

Bucky’s face doesn’t change. “I’m going outside,” he states, and then he’s striding past Steve to the door. 

“Wait, Bucky—" Steve starts, but Bucky has already gone, closing the door behind him. Steve sighs to himself. He needs to get out of here. He can try and find somewhere else and start a new life, but Bucky doesn’t seem to understand. Steve wonders if it’s maybe because Bucky has never left the maze and doesn’t understand there is a whole world out there. 

Steve waits for Bucky to come back. He reads the spines of his books. He hasn’t heard of any of them. There are a few titles that Steve thinks sound interesting that he’d like to read but he’ll ask Bucky first. He doesn’t want to upset him further today. 

When Bucky’s been gone for a while, Steve helps himself to a little bit of food because Bucky did say that was okay. After that, he lies on the bed and sketches for a while. 

When he feels his eyes closing, he realises how late it must be and Bucky has still not returned. He thinks maybe he should look for him, but he would have no idea where to start. He stays up, worrying about him, but eventually he can’t keep his eyes open and he falls soundly asleep, still alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback guys, I really love hearing what you think :D Next chapter tomorrow! x


	6. If the embarrassment doesn't kill me, this fever might

Bucky isn’t there when he wakes up. Steve stretches out his skinny arms above his head and then realises this. He’s worried now. What if something has happened to him? Steve decides he has to go look for him. He looks over at Bucky’s table of weapons and wonders if he should take one. He really has no idea what might be out there.

He doesn’t even get as far as getting off the bed. Bucky pushes open the door and pauses, looking over at Steve. He frowns and then shuts the door and stalks across the room. Steve can see as he walks past that his eyes are red, as though he’s been crying, and Steve feels terrible. Bucky curls himself up on his blanket pile.

“Bucky, are you okay?” Steve asks gently, peering over at him.

Bucky pulls one of the blankets over his head so now he’s just a covered lump. Steve doesn’t know what to do. He sits and waits for a while, but Bucky doesn’t move. He can’t even tell if he’s breathing under there. Steve finds his sketchbook shoved against the wall where it must have gotten pushed over to when he fell asleep, and he draws for a bit, hoping Bucky will come out soon.

He doesn’t. Steve eventually grabs some bread to eat. He offers some to Bucky, but he gets no reply. He sits on his bed again and wonders what he can do, and then thinks of something. He starts softly singing one of his mother’s lullabies.

It works. After a few bars, Bucky pops his head out of the blanket. He moves a little so he’s sitting, and Steve looks away, not wanting to spook him, but can feel Bucky peering at him from the foot of the bed, so Steve keeps singing and doesn’t look until he finishes the song. Just Bucky’s eyes are visible over the bed frame. Steve thinks he looks adorable.

“Hey there,” Steve says, meeting his eyes.

“You upset me,” Bucky states, still staring.

Steve’s heart tugs. He feels awful. “I know. I’m really sorry.”

“I want you to like it here,” Bucky says, so sadly that Steve feels like his heart might be breaking.

“I know, and I do, really,” he says with emphasis. “You’ve done so much for me and you’ve been so nice. Thank you,” Steve says, and not just because he knows Bucky likes being thanked, but because he really means it.

Bucky doesn’t beam at him like he usually does, but there’s a hint of a smile in his eyes.

“Let’s do something you want to do today,” Steve suggests. “What do you usually do?”

Bucky seems to perk up a little. “I like swimming. Do you swim?” he asks, eyes hopeful.

Steve knows how to keep afloat. He wouldn’t call it swimming as such, but he won’t drown at least. “Sure,” Steve agrees, and Bucky’s face brightens further. It makes Steve feel a little better about upsetting him. Then Steve thinks about it and wonders where exactly you can go swimming in a maze.

It turns out that you go swimming in a maze in a lake. Bucky takes him through another labyrinth of hedge paths and then they enter another huge clearing, with a large lake in the middle. Because why wouldn’t there be a lake in the middle of a maze? Steve is starting to find the maze less surprising each day, even though nothing in the maze makes sense. But it makes sense to him in its nonsensicalness.

The lake shimmers in the sunlight and it looks inviting, but Steve is still a little worried about how deep it might be, or what creatures could be lurking in there.

Bucky leads him down the slight hill to where the bank of land meets the edge of the lake. He apparently shares none of Steve’s concerns because he puts down his ever-present stick, pulls off his shirt, and starts wading into the water.

Steve watches him with a little trepidation. He also watches Bucky’s strong back muscles as he moves. Bucky turns when the water has reached his knees and he notices Steve has yet to follow.

Steve is aware he’s never really been that attracted to girls. It’s just there’s never really been any boys he’s been attracted to in the town either. But Bucky…he’s really a work of art. Steve tries not to stare too long at his bare chest, but of course, looking up means looking at his stupidly handsome face.

“Aren’t you coming?” Bucky asks.

Steve tries to gather himself and think about the lake instead of Bucky. “Is it safe?”

Bucky frowns deeply at him. “Of course it is. You think I would take you somewhere unsafe?” He sounds deeply insulted by the insinuation.

Steve shakes his head. “No, of course not,” he replies quickly, trying to placate Bucky. He doesn’t want to upset him again with his thoughtless comments. He sighs a little to himself and pulls off his own shirt, embarrassed by doing it in front of Bucky, but Bucky doesn’t stare at him. Steve feels him look, but he doesn’t stare.

Steve takes off his shoes and then wades into the water gingerly, but it’s a nice temperature—it’s only very slightly cold. Bucky continues moving again now Steve is following, until he’s up to his chest and Steve, as he joins him, finds himself up to above his shoulders, but at least he’s still standing.

Bucky kicks his feet off and starts swimming. He does little backstrokes around Steve, apparently waiting for him to do the same.

Steve lifts his feet and kicks and flaps his arms in the water. It works. He probably has the grace of a dying bird, but it works. He would feel awkward next to Bucky’s elegant gliding swimming, but Bucky doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with Steve’s terrible doggy-paddling. He just looks pleased that Steve is swimming.

“I like it here,” Bucky tells him as they paddle about. “I spend a lot of time here.”

“It’s nice,” Steve comments, earning him a smile. “What other things do you like to do?” he asks, because he’s truly curious about what Bucky’s life is like.

“I read,” Bucky says, stopping kicking, floating on his back. “I collect. Sometimes I make things.”

Steve is about to ask what sort of things, but Bucky keeps going.

“What do you do where you are from?” he asks.

Steve’s not so good at keeping himself afloat and talking at the same time. He swims a little until he can put his feet down on the lake-bed again. “I helped my mother at work. I’d help her cook. You already know I like sketching.” He stops. He suddenly can’t really remember other things he used to do, and he feels abruptly ashamed because if he’s honest with himself, he’s been judging Bucky’s life here, thinking that he must get so bored without other people, except Bucky might just have a fuller life than Steve had been living. His mother was the best part of his life and basically his only friend.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks.

He’s not. Steve is feeling despair in the pit of his stomach. It’s the sort of despair that comes about when you realise you have no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going. “Fine,” Steve chokes out. He goes back to paddling a little.

Bucky swims over closer to him, stopping and treading water a foot from him. “Fine is not good,” he states, sounding wise beyond his years. “You deserve good. Or great!” he exclaims.

Steve’s heart clenches. Bucky doesn’t even know him, but he thinks he deserves great. It’s sweet of him to say that even if it’s not true. Steve doesn’t know what he deserves. “You’re really nice, Bucky,” Steve says softly.

Bucky tilts his head. “Nice isn’t great,” he frowns. He starts swimming away again, mumbling to himself.

Steve, despite his slightly bad hearing, catches a little of his mumbling. It sounds like he says, “I’ll be great, so Steve sees I’m great.”

 

 

A day later and Steve’s starting to regret the swimming. It was maybe a little too cold for him after all and he’s feeling a bit under the weather. Bucky had no problem with it, so Steve should have been fine, except, of course, he’s always been very susceptible to getting sick.

Bucky tries to rouse him from bed that morning, but he’s just not feeling up to it. “’m cold,” he mumbles to Bucky, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

Bucky frowns at him. “I can give you warmer clothes?” he offers.

Steve shakes his head, with a shiver. “It’s not that. I think I’m sick,” he says miserably.

“Sick?” Bucky repeats. He looks concerned. “What can I do?” he asks, kneeling next to the bed so his face is level with Steve’s.

“My mother always made me tea with honey when I got sick,” Steve explains, trying not to let his voice sound too whiny, though he feels awful.

Bucky nods and stands straight away. “I can do that.” He sets about doing just that, mumbling to himself.

Steve tries to curl himself up even further under the covers. A moment later, a heavy weight lands on him as Bucky dumps the pile of covers from the floor right on top of him. He lays them out all across him and gingerly tucks them in around Steve’s body.

“Thanks,” Steve manages to smile.

Bucky brings him his tea a few minutes later and Steve manages to struggle up to sit and sips the drink slowly. “I’m really sorry, Bucky. I probably won’t be much fun for a few days. I guess I shouldn’t have gone swimming,” he muses, while enjoying the warmth of the cup in his hands.

“Swimming made you sick?” Bucky asks sharply. He’s sitting on the floor next to the bed.

Steve shrugs. “Just the cold, I think.”

“ _I_ made you sick?”

Bucky sounds completely distraught and his eyes are wide and sad when Steve looks at him. “No, no, you didn’t make me sick,” Steve rushes out.

“But I made you swim,” Bucky replies, completely miserable sounding, looking at the floor.

Steve shakes his head and puts his finished tea down on the floor, before settling back down into bed. “It’s not your fault. I just get sick a lot.” He closes his eyes, feeling a little sleepy now.

There’s a shuffling sound, and when he opens his eyes again, Bucky is kneeling closer, peering at him. “You’re delicate,” he states.

Steve glowers at him. “’m not delicate,” he replies grumpily.

“It’s okay,” Bucky informs him, even though it’s not okay, because Steve would love more than anything to not be this way. He wishes he could be strong like Bucky. “I’ll always take care of you,” Bucky continues.

“I can get by on my own,” Steve argues, because even though it’s nice of Bucky, he doesn’t need someone looking after him. He can do it just fine. He closes his eyes again, sleep taking over.

“…you don’t have to,” he hears part of Bucky’s reply, just before he falls asleep.

 

 

When Steve wakes in the night, his feet are much warmer than the rest of him. When he looks down, he realises Bucky has draped himself at the bottom of the bed, curled up like a puppy over Steve’s feet.

The next time he wakes, he’s too hot. He kicks off the covers instinctively, accidently kicking Bucky in the process, who yelps at the rude awakening.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, still battling blankets, trying to get cooler.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, and Steve can just make out him blinking tiredly, lit by the dying embers of the fire.

“Too hot,” Steve moans. He’s probably got a fever, he thinks. God, he hates this. There’s nothing to do except wait it out.

Bucky climbs off the bed, but Steve barely notices as he struggles to get comfortable, feeling all sweaty and achy. Something cool presses against his forehead and he opens his eyes to see Bucky pressing a wet cloth onto his head.

“Does this help?” His eyes are wide and he’s looking at Steve with more concern than anyone except his mother ever has.

Steve’s shocked by how much he really seems to care. Talking is tiring though, so Steve just nods and hums in approval and lets Bucky hold the cloth there, as Steve flutters his eyes closed again.

The night seems to go on endlessly, and every time Steve wakes from a fitful sleep, his body has decided it feels the opposite of the time before. Steve is barely registering much now, feeling a little delirious, but he knows that every time he complains, Bucky either wraps him in blankets or cools him off with the cloth again.

“Steve,” he hears Bucky whisper as he feels the damp cloth return once again to his face. He’s too out of it to even respond. “Steve, please don’t die.” Steve registers how sad Bucky sounds, hearing sniffles. “I only just found you,” he whimpers right near Steve’s ear.

It’s daylight when he finally wakes up, feeling a little more clear-headed. He blinks as he remembers where he is and feels a pang that his mother is not there to take care of him. But then he looks and sees Bucky is there, sitting on the floor next to the bed, watching over him.

“Steve?” he utters, his eyes wide and brimming with emotion.

Steve wonders why he’s so sad. “I’m okay, Buck,” he tries to reassure him, finding words coming more easily than during the night. “Just needed a night to sleep it off.” He manages to smile, realising he’s feeling a little better now.

“You’ve been like this for three days,” Bucky replies, his voice catching.

Steve blinks at him. “What? Three days?” It feels like only a few hours since he fell ill.

“I was so scared.” Bucky sounds shaky when he speaks. “I thought you were going to die. I don’t want you to die, Steve. Promise you won’t,” he implores Steve.

Steve feels terrible, and not just because he’s still sick. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m not gonna die though.” He reaches out a hand to Bucky, but Bucky grabs his cup of water and holds it out to Steve, fingers grasping the lip of the cup until Steve has a firm hold on the base.

The water does help. Steve sips it slowly, looking at Bucky. “Did you get any sleep?” he asks, because Bucky looks like a wreck. He’s still beautiful, but he looks exhausted. Steve briefly wonders about how terrible he himself must look.

“I had to watch over you,” Bucky murmurs.

That’s a no then. Steve frowns. “You need to sleep. I’ll be okay soon, I promise.”

Bucky peers at him and then nods, seeming to decide that Steve is telling the truth. He reaches for a couple of the blankets that Steve apparently kicked off once again onto the floor.

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor,” Steve tells him, feeling terribly guilty, because he’s basically stolen Bucky’s bed since he arrived. That said, he can’t really get out of bed right now. “Just come and lie next to me,” he offers, patting the small empty space besides him. His heart starts beating a little faster.

Bucky looks surprised and then slightly unhappy. Steve feels that like a blow to the chest. Bucky doesn’t want to share with him, why would he? It was a stupid suggestion. He feels dumb and embarrassed about it, but then Bucky wraps himself in the abandoned blankets, creating a cocoon around himself, and then carefully climbs onto the bed next to Steve. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment and Steve can feel the warmth of Bucky next to him, even though there’s an inch of space between them and they aren’t touching.

“Try and get some sleep,” Steve tells him.

Bucky turns his face towards Steve so now his eyes are super up close to Steve’s. He can see every individual eyelash and the little colour variations in Bucky’s stormy blue eyes. “Okay,” Bucky replies simply, before turning his face back up to the ceiling and shutting his eyes.

Steve listens to his breathing, as it slows and evens out as Bucky succumbs to some much-needed sleep. He sounds so peaceful that Steve soon follows, feeling safe and cared for with Bucky there by his side.


	7. You know what heart, you can shut up

Steve feels like his usual self after another day or so. Bucky seems relieved, though he hovers around, making sure Steve eats enough, and keeps making him tea, apparently trying to get him healthier faster.

Steve’s still thrown by all the attention and care Bucky bestows upon him. He feels like he’s done nothing to earn it. So he tries his best to be useful. He insists on helping Bucky cook and he tries to keep the house clean, without moving any of Bucky’s things. Bucky just looks amused as he sweeps the stone floor.

Steve feels more comfortable as the days go on. He likes Bucky’s company and he feels that a real friendship is developing between them. Steve knows that’s all it is, of course, so he tries hard to not notice the fluttering he gets in his stomach sometimes when he looks at Bucky.

The days pass, relaxed and easy. Bucky lets Steve read any of the books that he wants to, so sometimes they sit in companionable silence together, reading. Steve finds Bucky’s books captivating, because he’s never heard of any of them, but the stories inside are fantastical and entrancing and he often gets lost reading for hours.

Steve also spends more time sketching, and Bucky always asks to see what he’s created when he finishes and he’s always generous with his praise on Steve’s work. Bucky even starts attaching some of Steve’s sketches to the wall behind the bed, though he still keeps the first drawing Steve did of him safely tucked away in the wardrobe.

They are sitting reading together again, Bucky at one end of the bed, and Steve at the other, their feet pointing towards each other, when Steve finishes a chapter of his book. He glances across at Bucky as he closes his book, to find that Bucky is watching him from over the top of his own book.

“What?” Steve asks, when Bucky quickly pulls his eyes back to his book.

Bucky’s eyes flicker to him once more. “You just…you looked happy,” he says, looking a little guilty, as though he feels Steve caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

Steve looks down at the book in his hands. “Well, it’s a good book,” he explains, feeling himself blushing a little at knowing Bucky’s attention had been on him.

“Really?” Bucky says attentively, a little smile on his face.

“Yeah, it’s hard to put it down,” Steve replies, smiling back.

Bucky gives him what looks like a shy grin. “I like when you smile,” he tells Steve, biting on his bottom lip, his eyes warm with affection.

Steve’s heart thumps in his chest. No one’s looked at him the way Bucky’s looking at him. He’s so open right then, Steve can see the fondness in his eyes. Steve looks down and brushes his hair back from his forehead. He has a sudden urge to reach out and take Bucky’s hand, but he pushes the impulse down.

“We should do more things to make you smile,” Bucky adds, his voice sure, like Steve has no say.

“Like what?” Steve can’t help asking. He does wonder what else there is in the maze or what other things Bucky might do to pass the time. It’s strange, going from trying to survive day to day, watching his mother working so hard and knowing he can do barely anything to help, to being blessed with an abundance of food and a warm house to stay in and with his first real friend on top of that.

“Whatever you want,” Bucky replies, like he’ll give Steve anything in the world that he asks for.

Steve really wants to explore the maze further, but he doesn’t want to upset Bucky again. So he picks something easier. “We could have a picnic again?” He enjoys being outside. He feels very free when he lies back and looks up at the sky, even though he knows he’s not, because he’s still trapped in the maze with no way out.

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “We can—”

Bucky is cut off by the creature making a noise, but it’s more of a roar this time than the usual whines. Steve jumps out of his skin and Bucky jumps up immediately.

“I need to go,” he says, grabbing a knife—Steve’s knife—and a club from the table.

Steve’s not seen him take a weapon with him before. Now he’s worried. Why would the creature be making that noise, and why does Bucky need weapons? “Can I come with you? Maybe I could help?” he offers. He’s dying to know what’s going on out there.

Bucky hesitates for a moment. “No. You stay here. You’re safe here. Don’t go outside until I come back,” he says. It doesn’t sound like a request.

He leaves and Steve sits there, feeling useless. If Bucky won’t tell him what that creature is or why he leaves every time it makes a noise, then Steve doesn’t know how he can fully trust him.

He’s had it with this. Steve grabs a small knife from the table and follows after Bucky. He’s just in time to see Bucky running along the top of the hedges. Steve stops in his tracks, flummoxed, mouth gaping. How the hell did Bucky get up there? How can he run on the hedges? Who the hell _is_ Bucky? And then he realises, if Bucky can do that, then he can clearly find a way out of the maze, which means he lied to Steve.

Steve watches him run until he’s out of sight. There’s no way to follow. He eventually goes back inside the house. He puts the knife back and sits on the bed. He doesn’t understand why Bucky would lie to him. It hurts to think he’d started to trust someone, only for them to be undeserving of it.

Steve sits there staring at the wall, a million thoughts running through his head, until Bucky returns maybe an hour or so later. He drops his weapons on the table, which seem to be more weapons than he left with and seems happy to see Steve stayed inside.

“Everything okay?” Steve asks dully.

Bucky looks hesitant as he turns to face him but answers “yes”. He stares at Steve, looking slightly troubled. “Why are you sad?” he asks, picking up on Steve’s mood.

“I saw you,” Steve states. There’s no point beating around the bush. “I saw you walking on the hedges.”

Bucky frowns. “I told you not to go outside.”

That makes Steve even madder. He stands up from the bed and Bucky backs away two steps. “That’s not really the point. You lied to me! You said you didn’t know if there was a way out the maze!” Steve confronts him.

Bucky looks a little guilty, so Steve knows it’s true. “I...I don’t want you to go,” Bucky says, his voice cracking a little.

Steve can’t even begin to feel bad for him right now. “That’s not your choice to make!”

Bucky frowns again. “Yes it is. You’re mine.” Bucky looks genuinely confused.

Steve sputters in disbelief. “I’m not one of your things, Bucky. I’m a person.”

“I know,” Bucky says, matter-of-fact. “You’re my person.”

Steve doesn’t even know what to say to that. He stops and thinks for a moment, willing himself to calm down. “Look, you can come with me. We can go and find somewhere new together,” he offers. Even though he’s mad, he thinks if Bucky would just be honest, then it would be nice to have a friend with him.

“Why? We have everything we need here. Besides, I can’t leave,” Bucky says simply, disregarding Steve’s offer.

Steve frowns in confusion. “Do you mean you actually can’t, or you won’t?”

“I live here,” Bucky replies. “We live here.”

Steve wants to tear his hair out in frustration. He isn’t getting anywhere. There’s pent up anger running through his body and he’s doing his best to not just yell right now.

“If...if there’s something missing here, tell me and I can get you it,” Bucky says, falteringly. His eyes are hopeful when Steve looks up.

Steve gives up and sinks onto the bed. The only thing he wants right now is his mother.

“You’ll like it here, I’ll make sure,” Bucky says, moving over to his book pile and muttering to himself. He selects a book and yanks it out, dislodging another few books in the process. He takes it over to Steve and offers it to him. “Here, you’ll like this. It’s happy,” he states, holding the book at the corner.

Steve explodes. He can’t help himself. “I don’t want a book, Bucky! I just want to get out of here!”

Bucky reels back as if Steve has slapped him. He looks so hurt, Steve instantly feels awful. His lower lip trembles and he drops the book onto the floor and then runs for the door, slamming it behind him. Steve is quicker this time and runs after him, but even though he’s only a couple of seconds behind Bucky, when he gets outside, Bucky is nowhere to be found.

 

 

The first day of waiting is hard. The second day is even harder. By the third, Steve is starting to think Bucky’s not coming back. By the fifth, he’s almost sure of it. Steve wants to go looking for him, but he knows he’ll end up lost out there. He also knows that if Bucky doesn’t want to be found, then he probably won’t find him.

The creature has been making growling noises a lot. A few times every day. It almost sounds sad to Steve now.

Steve feels terrible, eating Bucky’s food and sleeping in his bed without him there. As the days go by, he thinks more clearly and he realises just how mean he was. Bucky clearly just wants a friend and he’s right in some ways—they do seem to have everything they need here. Maybe Steve is being stupid. There’s probably no better life for him out there. Only a life where people believe him to be useless and make fun of his size and lack of strength. Bucky has never made fun of him. He’s only ever cared for him.

On the sixth day, Steve sits just outside the house and talks to Bucky as though he can hear him. Steve thinks maybe, just maybe, he could be nearby and might. It’s raining for the first time since Steve got lost in the maze, but the house shelters him enough as he sits on the stoop. He hopes that Bucky is under cover somewhere at least, since Steve has essentially run him out of his own home. God, he’s awful. He feels terrible and tells Bucky he’s sorry. He asks him to please come back. But Bucky doesn’t come back.

By the ninth day, Steve decides to try something different. He starts touching Bucky’s stuff. He organises the books and puts them into a neat alphabetical pile. He groups the weapons and moves them to a corner of the room, so he can set the table nicely. He puts all the floor rocks into a more orderly pile and all the shiny things into a basket he finds in the kitchen. Then he goes and sits outside and tells the air what he’s done.

Steve waits a while but Bucky doesn’t come. He goes back inside, feeling defeated, not knowing what else he can do, and then, to his surprise, only two minutes later, Bucky storms into the house. He freezes as he looks at what Steve has done. Steve feels bad, but he needed to get Bucky’s attention and it apparently worked.

“You...you touched all my things,” Bucky whispers, eyes darting around the room, taking it in.

Steve moves towards him. “I—”

“You touched all my things!” Bucky says loudly now. “Why would you do that, I told you not to do that,” he says, breathing heavily. He’s getting really worked up about it.

“I just needed you to come home,” Steve says cautiously, taking a step forward.

“You were supposed to be good!” Bucky almost yells at him, grabbing his arms and giving him a slight shake. Then Bucky gasps and moves his hands like he’s been burnt and Steve suddenly realises it’s the first time Bucky has touched him.

Bucky backs away. His back hits the door and he slides down it. “Oh,” he breathes out and a tear rolls down his cheek. “Oh, Steve,” he says sadly.

Steve doesn’t know what’s happening. He crouches down next to Bucky and reaches a hand out but Bucky flinches away, so Steve doesn’t touch him. “What did I do?” he asks, completely confused and worried.

“You’re so sad,” Bucky gasps. “Your mother...” he trails off.

Steve hasn’t told Bucky about his mother. He hasn’t wanted to say it out loud. He doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“You make my heart beat, but yours...it hurts so much,” Bucky says, tears falling in earnest now.

“Bucky, I don’t understand, how do...” Steve trails off. Bucky touched him. Bucky touched him for the first time and then he started talking about Steve’s pain. Could Bucky...could Bucky feel it?

“Please stop hurting, Steve. Please,” Bucky begs, looking at him earnestly, eyes pleading.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. “I can’t, Buck. It doesn’t work like that,” he says gently.

Bucky just cries harder and Steve can’t help himself, he leans in to hug Bucky. Bucky wails and pushes against Steve, but he’s trying to do it without touching Steve with his hands and then the creature lets out the loudest and most terrifying roar yet. Steve falls backwards from his crouch onto the hard floor as the house seems to shake with the sound.

Bucky scrambles to his feet and yanks the door open, fleeing again. Steve follows quickly, pulling the door open as soon as Bucky has closed it, and then when he’s a few steps out the door, he freezes in fear.

Bucky is standing there next to a very, very angry-looking dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun daaa (I don't know how to write a dramatic sound...) 
> 
> Hope you like the reveal! Let me know? Next up, Steve gets answers.


	8. This is some really crazy stuff, is this real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring the second piece of art by allgreymatters! I love it so much!

  
_Art by[allgreymatters](http://allgreymatters.tumblr.com)_ ([View full size](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c846aecaa8ec61ffa47ca62a2360eb6f/tumblr_pnmz31oQyd1vqeho7o1_1280.png)) 

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He can’t really believe what he’s seeing. He doesn’t really have time to take it in though. The dragon steps forward towards him immediately and Steve is frozen, but then Bucky is there, moving himself in front and...and stroking his hand down the dragon’s front leg? Steve can’t understand what’s happening.

“I touched him, he didn’t hurt me,” Bucky says to the dragon.

The dragon snorts. Steve swears a little steam comes out his nostrils, but the dragon doesn’t make a move for him again. Steve feels ever so slightly better as he stares at the amazing creature, still trying to take in that dragons are real.

They’re real and they’re kind of beautiful. The dragon stands only a few feet taller than Bucky. He’s not huge by any means. He has a black scaly skin, but Steve can see bits of blue and purple and green where the sunlight hits it in an iridescent kind of way. His talons are long and frighteningly sharp-looking, his face showing he’s angry enough to maybe want to do some damage with them. His wings are tucked into his sides and Steve thinks he would love to see them open and see just how far they expand. He has green horns that reflect a little bit of gold and he has golden eyes too. He...he doesn’t seem to like the way Steve is staring.

The dragon snorts at him again.

“Steve, this is Winter,” Bucky says, as though introducing him to a dragon is normal.

“Your dragon?” Steve sputters, incredulous.

Bucky frowns and the dragon scratches one foot along the ground like he’s angry. “He’s not _my_ dragon. You don’t _own_ a dragon,” Bucky says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s my friend. He looks after me.”

The dragon lowers his head down to Bucky for a moment and Bucky rubs his hand across its nose. He laughs for a second. “Go on then,” Bucky says to the dragon.

The dragon steps round Bucky and towards Steve, and Steve is more than a little scared, except the dragon ignores him now and goes up to the house and through the front door that Steve left open. He somehow manages to fit through.

“He’s been mad that he’s been sleeping away from me since you arrived,” Bucky states.

Steve realises that’s what the blankets are for. Because Bucky’s dragon friend sleeps there at the foot of his bed. Of course. Because that makes perfect sense.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, peering at him.

“Dragons are real,” Steve breathes out at him.

“You haven’t seen a dragon before?” Bucky asks, sounding confused.

“Uh, no,” Steve replies. “We have stories about them, but no one thinks they’re real.”

“Oh. Winter’s real,” Bucky states plainly.

“Why...why didn’t you tell me that’s what the creature was?” Steve asks.

Bucky looks like he feels a little bad about that. “Winter didn’t trust you,” he admits. “Everyone who comes here is bad. I told him you weren’t, but he didn’t believe me. He’s been very mad at me lately,” Bucky says with a wry smile.

Steve’s head is swirling. Nothing in his life makes sense anymore. He’s living in a magic maze and his best friend has a dragon. It’s a lot. Then Steve realises with surprise that he thinks of Bucky as his best friend and suddenly he feels really lucky, because sure, his life might not make sense, but he has a best friend who cares about him, and that’s something he never expected to have.

“Though you did touch my things so maybe Winter was right,” Bucky muses.

That snaps Steve out of it. “I only did that to try and get you to come home,” he explains, trying to look apologetic.

“Why?” Bucky frowns, his smile gone, as though he’s just remembered what happened only a few minutes ago. “You don’t like it here with me. You want to leave,” he says in an accusatory tone.

“No, I do...I...I missed you when you were gone,” Steve admits, looking imploringly at Bucky. It’s true. He missed Bucky a lot. It became an ache.

“You did?” Bucky seems truly surprised.

“Yes,” Steve says honestly. He feels terrible that he made Bucky doubt that. “Look, I think we have a lot to talk about. Can...can we promise to be honest with each other from now on?”

Bucky looks a little worried. “I...I’ll try.”

Steve supposes that’s the best he can hope for. “Okay. Should we...we should sit down.”

Bucky looks back at the house. “Winter is sleeping. We can go to your garden?” he suggests.

Steve is touched that Bucky thinks of it as _his_ garden. He nods.

Bucky starts leading them there. When they turn a corner, Steve is again struck by the beauty of the garden. Bucky walks over to one of the stone benches and sits down crossed-legged on it. Steve sits next to him, a leg on either side, so they are facing each other.

“Okay...” Steve starts, before realising he really doesn’t know where to start. He decides to start with the obvious. “Is your dragon, I mean, is Winter…is he good?” Steve stumbles over his words.

Bucky snorts. “Of course he’s good. He’s my friend.”

“So he won’t hurt me?” Steve can’t help asking.

“He thought you upset me. He’s usually much nicer,” Bucky says with a fond, thoughtful smile. “He knows you’re good really. He only hurts bad people.”

Steve has a sudden realisation. “Is...is that what happens to other people who come into the maze? Does Winter hurt them?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sometimes he kills them and eats them.”

Steve is frozen in horror. “He...he what?” Bucky is so blasé about it.

Bucky frowns at the look on his face. “It’s his home—he has to protect it. They are bad, so they have to go.” He says it so simply, like it’s just a fact and like it doesn’t bother him at all.

“You said you didn’t kill anyone,” Steve manages to say, choking a little on the words.

“I don’t. Winter does it,” Bucky says, as though that means it’s okay.

Steve isn’t sure how to get past this, but he needs to know more. “Okay…why does he protect the maze?” Steve asks, running a hand through his hair, trying to forget about the murderous part of the dragon.

“Because it’s his home.”

“Can he leave?”

“Yes,” Bucky states.

“Can you?” Steve asks firmly.

Bucky hesitates. “I...I can,” he finally says. “But I don’t. I have everything I need here.” Bucky pauses. “Or well, I almost did. And then I found you and now I do,” he says quietly, looking up at Steve. “How did your mother die?” he asks suddenly.

Steve’s chest aches with the abrupt question, his emotions flipping from horror to sadness in a second. “She had an attack...couldn’t breathe properly.” He tries to say this simply, keeping the emotion out of his voice.

“Do you have that?” Bucky asks, looking genuinely curious.

“I could,” Steve replies truthfully, but without lingering on the question. “How did you know about my mother? How did you know I was sad?” Steve asks, even though he thinks he might know the answer, even though the answer makes no sense.

Bucky looks unsure and like he’s struggling to find the words to speak. “I...you touched me and I...I felt it,” Bucky whispers, eyes wide.

Steve takes a moment to try and gather himself. “Have you always been able to do that?” Steve asks, trying to get his head around it.

Steve can see the hesitation in Bucky’s eyes before he speaks. “When I first met Winter…when he found me in the maze, I was hurt. He healed me with his blood and then when I touched him, I could feel what he felt,” Bucky explains, watching Steve carefully, as though scared of his reaction. “Winter does it too,” he continues. “But he feels me from far away. It’s how he knew I was sad—he got worried.” Bucky looks sad now too, as though he caused Winter some pain and feels terrible about it.

“But you have to touch?” Steve clarifies, forcing himself to believe Bucky, even though it’s crazy.

Bucky nods.

“How did you get hurt?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t remember. Winter made it better.”

Steve feels certain that Bucky hasn’t always lived in the maze then—he just doesn’t remember a time before the maze. Maybe he truly forgot or maybe his mind shut it out, whatever his life was before. Either way, Steve wonders about the how and why that led him here. “Can you do other things?” Steve asks, because suddenly he’s thinking about the fountain that disappeared.

“I...yes,” Bucky says, only briefly hesitating this time.

“Like?” Steve prompts.

“I can make things,” Bucky says softly, looking down at his hands. “Anything in my mind, I can make in the maze.” He looks up cautiously at Steve.

“…Anything?” Steve can’t believe this. “Like what?”

“Your garden,” Bucky whispers.

“You…you made this?” Steve is stunned.

Bucky nods. “You said blue was your favourite.”

Steve looks round at the flowers and all the shades of blue. Bucky did this for him. He made a whole garden for him, filled with his favourite colour, just to try and make him happy. “You...you just...think it?” he asks, still looking round in wonder.

“Mmmhmm,” Bucky nods.

He looks over at one of the flower patches and Steve watches as the flower petals change from the centre to the edges, turning from blue to red, as though they are bleeding.

“That...that’s insane,” Steve murmurs, his eyes not believing what they are seeing.

“Is...is there something you want me to make? Something so you’re happier here?” Bucky asks, his voice full of hope.

Steve feels terrible again and looks back at Bucky. “I’m...I’m not unhappy, I just...when you said there was no way out the maze, I felt trapped. Now I know there is a way, maybe I can go out sometimes?”

“Outside?” Bucky looks confused. “Is it safe?”

“I...” It’s not safe actually. If Rumlow and his men see him...

“It’s not, is it?” Bucky deduces. “You can’t go out there then,” he states simply. Steve frowns, but Bucky keeps going. “You’re small and precious. I can’t let you go somewhere unsafe.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s mad Bucky called him small, but he also called him precious. Bucky thinks he’s precious. It’s strange how Bucky seems to see Steve as something he owns though, as though he thinks it’s completely fine to tell Steve that he can’t leave. Then Steve remembers. In the stories about dragons, they are hoarders. They keep things they deem to be precious and they never let go of them. That’s why Bucky has piles of stuff in his house, why he doesn’t want Steve touching it, why he states that things are his. He’s been raised by a dragon to be dragon-like. It’s so ridiculous, Steve feels himself falling into laughter.

Bucky looks perplexed. “What’s funny?”

Steve tries to compose himself. He hasn’t laughed like this in a while. “It’s just...you treat things just like a dragon would. As precious.”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “You _are_ precious. You’re the most precious thing I have. I have lots of things that are the same, piles of them, but there’s only one of you. Only one Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s laugh dies on his lips. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him. Steve finds himself staring at Bucky. “Can I hug you?” he says without thinking.

Bucky looks somehow both happy and worried. “I...are you still sad?” he asks cautiously.

Steve is honest. “That’s not going to go away,” he admits. “But I’m not focusing on it right now,” he adds, because he’s not. Right now, he’s feeling wonder mostly, and a warmth at the idea of Bucky finding him precious.

Bucky looks a little scared. “I...okay,” he says, giving in, but still seeming nervous.

He doesn’t move, so Steve moves closer on the bench until he’s right next to Bucky, Bucky’s crossed-leg knees touching his thighs a little as Steve reaches out and wraps his arms around Bucky.

Bucky’s breath hitches as Steve presses against him. Steve didn’t realise how much he needed this—simple human touch. He’s been craving it without knowing. He feels Bucky hesitating, but then he puts his arms around Steve as well and squeezes him tightly. It’s so nice, Steve thinks he could stay there forever. Bucky is warm and Steve’s chin slots in nicely onto his shoulder and he smells really nice too, like freshly cut grass and afternoon sunshine. Steve doesn’t know how someone can smell of sunshine, he just knows that Bucky _does_.

“Oh,” Bucky breathes out.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, worried, pulling away.

“You...you like hugging me,” Bucky says, twisting his fingers together in his lap, looking shy.

Steve feels himself getting a little red. “I...umm...so how does this work?” he asks. “What...how much can you feel?”

Bucky lifts his head. “I just feel what you do. It’s more...it’s stronger, if I touch my skin to your skin. Or if you have very strong feelings, then I can sometimes feel the reason for them too. Like your mother,” he says, a little sadly now.

“What did you feel just then?” Steve can’t help asking.

Bucky grins a little. “You’re complicated. You like me and you seem fascinated with something.” His face turns a little doleful. “But you’re also angry and there’s sadness all over you, in every inch of you. It lives in you, coating you with it. I want it gone,” he says bluntly.

Steve smiles sadly. “I do too.” He doesn’t, of course, want to forget his mother, but he does wish it would stop hurting. It’s too much to bear sometimes.

“How do I make it go?” Bucky asks. “I can make anything you want.” He sits up straighter as though ready to action any request Steve makes.

Steve is moved but tries to explain gently to him. “That’s the thing, Buck, no one knows. I guess it’s just...time, maybe? Maybe it goes in time?”

“But I can’t make that,” Bucky says as a realisation.

“I know,” Steve says softly. “But it’s okay. It’s not up to you to fix me.” He looks away for a moment, wishing there _was_ a magical way to just fix it.

“But I want to make you happy. As happy as you make me,” Bucky complains.

Steve is touched. He looks back at Bucky to see his eyes filled with more open affection than he’s ever seen from him before. “I can be happy and sad at the same time,” he tries to explain. But he _does_ want to make Bucky happy. “I really liked that cake though,” he says, giving Bucky something tangible, because he doesn’t want Bucky to feel like he’s powerless to help him.

Bucky’s eyes brighten and widen. “You liked the chocolate,” Bucky says, excitement in his eyes. He gets up abruptly and runs over to the fountain, and Steve does a double take as he sees the water is now running brown, like molten chocolate and then he realises that’s exactly what it is.

Steve follows Bucky over there. Bucky sticks his hand under the stream, his whole hand getting covered, and then licks his fingers, not seeming to care in the slightest that chocolate is dripping down his shirt and onto his feet. He beams at Steve.

Steve shakes his head and laughs and puts his hand in as well, trying to be a little more careful, but it doesn’t work. They both end up covered in the stuff. Steve licks his fingers happily. Chocolate really is the best thing ever.

Bucky is watching him, smiling, and then abruptly hugs Steve, smushing more chocolate into Steve’s clothes. He laughs in delight as he holds Steve close. “I did good,” he exclaims close to Steve’s ear and Steve feels a little shiver go through him.

“Yeah, Buck. Thank you,” he tells him, genuinely. Actually, maybe _Bucky_ is the best thing ever.

They hold each other tightly for maybe a little longer than is normal. Bucky doesn’t seem to want to let go. Neither does Steve. Being in Bucky’s arms feels like the place he’s supposed to be. He feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this chapter. Thank you for all the comments and kudos so far! Leave some love for the art in the comments cause it's awesome! x


	9. Why would I even mention doing this? There's no going back now

Steve didn’t know a dragon could look bemused, but that’s definitely what Winter looks like when he lifts his head to look at Bucky and Steve when they return home.

Bucky looks like he’s holding back from laughing at the look on Winter’s face. “Steve needs a bath,” he says seriously.

They both do. At some point, eating the chocolate gave way to splashing each other with chocolate and now Steve is so covered with it, his hair is brown. Bucky hasn’t fared much better.

Winter snorts. Steve finds that so interesting. “Does Winter understand you?” he asks Bucky.

Bucky smiles, looking a little surprised. “Of course he does.”

“Does he understand me?” Steve continues, wondering if it’s just a thing between them, looking over at the dragon.

Winter snorts again and was that...did the dragon just roll his eyes at Steve?

“Sorry,” Steve says quickly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He approaches Winter, a little cautiously. Bucky is watching, looking curious. “Thank you for believing Bucky when he said I was good,” Steve says. “I’m sorry he kicked you out of here so I didn’t get scared. I hope we can get to know each other now.” He offers a smile at the dragon.

Winter stares at him for a moment. Bucky looks thrilled. Winter finally nods his head. Steve can tell there’s still a little suspicion there, but he’s being accepting at least.

“Thank you, Winter. That’s very gracious of you,” he smiles. “I hope it’s okay to say, but you’re very amazing to me.” He really is. Steve is fascinated with Winter. He’s the most amazing thing Steve has ever seen. His world, once so small, seems infinitely bigger now and filled with wonder.

Winter moves so he’s sitting up and is he...yes, that looks like a dragon preening a little under Steve’s attention.

“Could I...it would be an honour if I could see your wings?” Steve asks shyly. He really wants to see them untucked, but he hopes he’s not rude in asking.

Winter gets up fully and moves over to the open door, and Steve figures his wings are too big to open in the house without knocking into things, and he and Bucky follow him outside.

Winter stands there and slowly unfolds his wings, looking very proud of himself, until Steve is wide-eyed in awe because if he thought the dragon was impressive before, well now…now he looks immense and dangerous, but beautiful and elegant at the same time. His wings reflect a touch more green and gold than the rest of his body and expand further than Steve would have thought. “You’re beautiful,” Steve says, without really meaning too.

Winter puffs out his chest and then apparently wants to show off, because he launches himself into the air and flies above their heads, doing a little aerial show, and then Steve’s mind is blown when Winter lets out a little breath of fire towards the clouds.

“Wow,” he breathes out, staring upwards before Bucky catches his eye.

Bucky smiles at him, pleased. “You like Winter.”

Steve nods, still watching as Winter flies down to land, remarkably light on his feet as he touches down. Bucky goes over and strokes Winter’s nose.

“You should go and bathe,” Bucky says to Steve. “Me and Winter will give you privacy.”

Steve nods, still trying to take in what he’s just seen. “Thank you, Winter,” he says, and Winter puffs out his chest proudly again.

Steve heads inside to find a steaming hot bath all ready and he realises Bucky must have done that for him. It’s so crazy, but it’s so amazing. “Thank you!” he yells out to Bucky.

Steve strips and settles into the hot water, sighing in pleasure. He’s learnt so much today, things he never even dreamed were possible, and yet, somehow, he’s still okay. He’s okay in his new, odd little world. He’s okay, because Bucky is right there with him.

 

 

Winter sleeps inside that night. It’s very strange, knowing there’s a dragon curled up at the foot of your bed. He sometimes makes snuffly little growly noises. Steve thinks they’re kind of cute. What’s also strange is there are now two beds. Bucky thought up a new one. It shouldn’t have fit in the house, except the house is now a little bigger to accommodate it. Steve can’t really get his head round this power of Bucky’s—there are probably incredible things he could do with it that Steve can’t even fathom, but right now, Steve is just trying to process the basics.

He’s also trying to remind himself that Bucky is only his friend and nothing more. Bucky placed the new bed right next to the other one so it’s almost like they are sharing. Steve understands now that it’s part of Bucky’s mindset—that he needs to look after his things and that sort of includes Steve now. Steve knows not to read into it further. He knows he’s not the sort of person people look at in _that_ way, and certainly someone as beautiful as Bucky never would. But Steve is okay with that. He knows Bucky cares for him, and that is enough for him. He glances over at Bucky, where he is sleeping next to him, and it’s enough.

It is nicer, he thinks, now he knows the truth. Over the next few days, Winter comes and goes, and Steve thinks Winter might even like him because Winter one day returns home with two sticks and gives one to Steve, dropping it at his feet from his mouth. Bucky’s face is priceless. He looks like he can’t decide if he’s pleased by this development or if he wants to yank the stick out of Steve’s hand. He looks at his own stick as though trying to figure out which is better. Bucky seems to eventually decide that he’s okay with it. Steve makes sure to keep his new stick in a safe place—it’s a weird gift, but he can tell it means a lot to them both, so he will treat it as such.

Bucky doesn’t shy away from touching Steve so much anymore either. He’s still careful, but whenever he thinks Steve is happy—like when Bucky has just given him some delicious food—he launches himself at Steve and hugs him tight and then lets out a peal of happy laughter. It’s nice. Bucky is strong and warm and comforting—Steve loves being held by him. And Steve likes making him smile. Bucky has this beautiful innocence about him. All his smiles are purely genuine, and they light up Steve’s day whenever he’s the focus of one. Steve still grieves, still misses his mother terribly, but there are moments of happiness, moments that come about because of Bucky.

But still, in the back of Steve’s mind, he can’t help but feel guilty. Bucky is powerful, and Winter is incredible, and just nearby is the castle, where people like Steve—people deemed too weak to fight back—are used like slaves, and Steve can’t help but think that they could do something about it—that they could stop it. It could so easily be him there.

As a few weeks pass, Steve can’t get the idea out of his head. He can’t ever be truly happy here with Bucky and Winter, knowing about the castle. How can he? That’s not who he is. Bucky can tell something is bothering him. He makes him endless cakes, he brings him incredible art supplies, he expands Steve’s garden—it now contains a small river and woodland that seems to go on endlessly. And Steve is grateful—he is—but it still feels wrong.

“Bucky?” Steve starts.

Bucky looks over at him from where he is paddling around in the river barefoot. Steve can tell by his expression that he already knows. Bucky is just attuned to these things, even without touching him.

Steve closes his sketchbook and puts it down beside him. “I need your help.”

Bucky frowns and walks over to him until he’s standing in front of Steve. “You want to leave, don’t you,” he states, in the saddest voice Steve has ever heard.

“No!” Steve says sharply, because he really doesn’t. “I don’t want to leave, but I...or we, I’m hoping...we need to.”

He gestures for Bucky to sit down and explains the whole story while Bucky sits beside him. Steve’s never told him what led him into the maze in the first place and Bucky has never asked. Bucky looks about ready to kill when he explains about Rumlow and his men chasing him to the maze. He’s never seen an expression like that on Bucky’s face.

“They came back for you,” Bucky interrupts him.

“What?”

“The men. Three of them came into the maze. They never come in groups anymore. Maybe it was the ones who chased you?” Bucky proposes.

Steve can’t imagine Rumlow or his men being brave enough to attempt to come into the maze. But then he _can_ imagine Rumlow ordering men into the maze for him. He just can’t believe Rumlow would be that desperate to try and get Steve or find out what happened to him. But Steve supposes maybe his obsession didn’t go away just because Steve did.

“What happened?” Steve asks Bucky, only feeling a little apprehensive about the answer.

Bucky looks away for a moment. “We protected you. Winter took care of it,” he says simply, but Steve knows he’s choosing his words carefully. Steve knows what that really means. Winter killed them. He knows he should feel badly about that, but he just can’t bring himself to.

“I…that’s…” Steve isn’t sure what to say. He doesn’t feel like trying to explain that killing people is bad, when he doesn’t particularly feel like it _is_ in this case. “Thank you,” he settles on.

Bucky looks back at him, his eyes brightening. He clearly wasn’t expecting that response.

“Anyway,” Steve continues, “at the castle there are more people like those men,” he explains and continues with his story. Bucky looks perturbed to say the least when Steve finishes.

“So do you see? I can’t just sit back and forget about those people. Not now that I could do something to stop it. Or, well, you and Winter could,” Steve corrects himself. He’s still basically useless in this plan of his. He really hopes Bucky understands. “My whole life, I just wanted to do what’s right...”

“So we go to the castle and we kill the bad men and save the good ones and then we come back here and you’ll be happy?” Bucky sums up very simply.

“I...Yes.” Steve decides a simple answer is best. He doesn’t necessarily want to kill the castle’s men, but if it comes down to it, he knows he will.

Bucky sighs, almost as though Steve’s request is a slight annoyance and it’s better to just give in than argue with him. “Fine. We will go. If Winter agrees.” He stands up. “You’ll stay here.”

Steve is up like a shot. “No. No way. I’m coming too. You won’t even know where to go without me.”

Bucky frowns at him. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I will be. I’ll be with you and Winter. I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” And okay, he knows he is manipulating Bucky a little with that, but he has to. He _has_ to be there.

Bucky nods. “Of course I won’t.” He states that as a fact, like it’s the truest statement anyone has ever made. He seems to be considering for a moment. Then he speaks decisively. “Okay. We’ll go and talk to Winter.”

 

 

Bucky wraps himself around Winter’s front leg when they get back. Winter snorts and scratches at the ground as Bucky explains everything. He finally nods and nuzzles against Bucky, and then he moves and nuzzles against Steve as well, for the first time. Steve smiles and gently rubs his muzzle like Bucky does. His scales feel strong under Steve’s hand, but smooth like glass somehow. Steve finds it hard to believe he’s essentially petting a dragon.

Now that they have agreed, Steve decides the first thing to do is to make sure that Bucky’s powers aren’t limited to the maze. Bucky seems surprised that Steve would even think that, but he agrees to make sure. He takes Steve on a short walk through the hedge paths and then there it is. The outside world. Steve doesn’t know how long it’s been—weeks, maybe months—since he entered the maze, and now he can see the world he left at the end of the path. He thought it would have felt like freedom, but somewhere along the way, he stopped feeling trapped in the maze. He likes the idea that maybe he could go out sometimes and then return though.

When the reach the exit, Bucky manifests a ball. He throws it out the maze and watches. It still exists. Nothing happens to it. They watch it for a little while before Bucky looks at Steve and then carefully steps out the maze. Steve knows Bucky has seen the world before—he runs on the top of the hedges and can see out over the fields—but he’s hardly ever stepped foot outside the maze before. He doesn’t seem to like it much. He retrieves the ball and heads back in quickly, passing the ball to Steve. Bucky’s powers will work outside then.

When they return to the house, Bucky makes Steve some armour. Steve thinks it’s overkill, but Bucky is adamant. It’s really light at least. Bucky makes him a big round shield as well. Steve wonders if Winter needs armour, but Bucky says Winter’s scales are strong, so he doesn’t need it. Winter looks pleased that Steve cares enough to ask.

Bucky does make some armour for himself when Steve insists, even though he gives Steve a bemused look. Then he lets Steve pick which weapons he wants to take. Real ones, from the pile Bucky has scavenged from dead people.

And then just like that, they are ready. Steve didn’t expect he’d just ask and they would just go, just like that. It’s a little overwhelming to think they’ll be back in the world shortly.

Winter heads outside to wait for them. Bucky stares at Steve and adjusts the armour slightly on his shoulder. A small smile appears on his face, but he’s worried, Steve can tell. It’s the first time Bucky has looked this way. Not his usual bright-eyed and innocent face, but something weary and aware. He looks far older than he usually does.

He hugs Steve, their armour clanging together. Steve doubts Bucky can feel his emotions through it and he’s glad. Because right now he’s scared. Scared that this is a mistake and that he could lose Bucky or Winter. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to take losing anyone else and he never expected to feel this deeply for them. Because somewhere along the way, he’s grown to love them both.

He exhales as Bucky puts his helmet on for him carefully. He stares at Bucky’s beautiful face, and those kind storm-blue eyes. Bucky smiles softly. “You make my heart beat,” he says in a murmur and then turns and heads out to join Winter. Steve feels warm as he follows Bucky outside.

Winter lowers himself to the ground and Bucky climbs onto Winter’s back, just in front of his wings, and only then does Steve realise they are going to ride on Winter to the castle. “We’re flying?”

Bucky laughs and Winter snorts at him as though they both find it very funny that Steve didn’t realise that. Steve steels himself and climbs on in front of Bucky when he gestures for him to. He’s feeling very nervous. Bucky gestures to him to take hold of the rope slung loosely round Winter’s neck, that Winter must have allowed Bucky to put on him. He thanks Winter for this, because he imagines a dragon probably doesn’t enjoy being leashed, and Bucky wraps his arm around Steve and his other hand grips the edge of one of Winter’s wings. Steve is still feeling panicked, but Bucky’s strong grip on him and the way he’s crushing Steve to his chest helps.

Winter launches himself into the air and Steve hears himself let out a very undignified scream and hears Bucky laugh again. It’s incredible, he finds, as they fly higher. He can see the whole maze, how it seems to be endlessly huge, but does eventually end, and then he can see the surrounding fields and then the town where he lived and he thinks he can maybe make out his house.

Soon the castle looms on the horizon and Steve can’t help but think that maybe this was a terrible idea.

But it’s too late now.


	10. Oh sweet Jesus, he's what now? Makes sense really

Winter lands on a turret, breathing fire at the guards up there, who are shrieking and preparing arrows. In moments they are charred to nothing. Steve thought he was prepared but he wasn’t. These are the people who came to town and beat old lady Carter when she refused to pay them off, but Steve still feels sick at their deaths, because they are deaths at his hand really. This was _his_ plan.

Bucky jumps off, Steve following him as Winter takes out anyone nearby. They head inside. Steve explained that the people he wanted to help would likely be at the bottom of the castle, so Bucky already knows to head down the winding stone staircase.

They meet their first obstacle in the form of two guards. Bucky fights with the first and Steve, without thinking, chucks his shield at the other with all the strength he can muster, knocking him out cold. Bucky hits the guard he’s fighting over the head with the hilt of his sword, and he laughs when he sees what Steve has done.

Steve picks up his shield and they continue on. It’s easier than Steve thought. Most of the guards must be outside trying to deal with Winter. He hopes Winter is okay. He’s sure he is. Bucky pushes open a door carefully when they run out of stairs and he and Steve run through a fancy dining room, hoping to find their way to the next set of stairs.

When they run into the next room, Steve freezes. They have inadvertently managed to find the throne room, and there, with four guards, is Alexander Pierce, the steward of the castle, who has ruled since the King’s death, when his heir went missing. He is the worst of the worst and Steve would be quite happy for Winter to burn him to a crisp.

“Who the hell are you?” he scowls, and the guards are already making a move for them.

Bucky raises his sword ready. “Release your slaves or we will end you,” Bucky declares, and Steve loves the conviction in his voice.

Pierce scoffs at him. “I will do no such thing. I will have your head on a spear is what I’ll do,” he spits out at them, gesturing to his guards.

Bucky looks at Steve, a flash of fear on his face. Then he manifests fire to surround the guards and separate Steve, so only he and Pierce can reach each other.

“Bucky!” Steve yells, because what is he doing? Steve can’t get past the fire to get to them.

The guards look like they’re in shock. Pierce has backed up a few steps.

“You threaten Steve and I’ll kill you,” Bucky says softly. He looks over at Steve. “Go down the stairs and release the slaves,” he says, and Steve realises he’s left him with access to the other door in the room.

“No, not without you,” Steve argues.

Bucky looks annoyed with him and like he’s about to argue, when something catches his eye and Steve sees him staring at the wall. “Who is that?” he asks.

“That’s a portrait of the King, you fool,” Pierce spits out, the fire apparently not enough of a deterrent to stop his vile tongue.

Bucky frowns. “That symbol...” he murmurs. Steve looks at the portrait and the symbol the King has on his tunic. Bucky fiddles round his neck, under his armour and pulls out a locket, yanking it from his neck. “I have the same symbol and that man and a woman, they are inside,” he says, opening the locket, and the fire separating Steve from him disappears. He holds the locket out to Steve.

Steve looks at the pictures inside. They are of the King and Queen. Steve can’t understand why Bucky has this. He looks at the front of the locket which is embossed with the letter B.

“You’re the lost prince,” Pierce mutters, sounding bewildered.

“The what?” Bucky asks, sounding confused, looking up at him.

“The King’s heir…he went missing,” Steve breathes out, his eyes widening with realisation. “Ten years ago.” Everyone in town knew the story. The little prince, James, went missing when he was just eight years old, only a few days after his mother and father had passed away. Pierce became the steward and the town believed the prince must have run away in grief and presumably died out there somewhere. “Bucky, it’s…it’s you,” Steve says incredulously.

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t remember. I…” He breaks off, staring round the room and then his eyes land on Pierce. Pierce looks guilty.

Steve’s head is spinning while he watches them. Bucky is royalty. Bucky is the lost prince...that means he’s the heir to the throne. He’s the King.

Bucky points his sword at Pierce and reaches out with his free hand. “Come here,” Bucky orders, and Steve can’t help but think he sounds commanding. Pierce backs up into the wall. He has nowhere to go as Bucky approaches him. Bucky presses his hand to his cheek.

He gasps and then pulls away, stepping back a few feet. “He feels guilty…paranoid. He knew.” He looks stunned, staring at Pierce. He stares at him for what seems like an age, the room silent but for the crackling of the fire. “I remember,” Bucky breathes out, turning to Steve with his eyes wide. “He hurt me, and I ran. I got lost...and then I forgot.”

“You remember?” Steve asks as Bucky turns back to look at Pierce, holding the blade of his sword even closer to him.

“I remember being afraid of him,” Bucky replies. “I remember being scared,” he states, his body tense as he stares down Pierce. “I think he killed them…my…my parents.”

The look on Pierce’s face is all it takes for Steve to know that it’s true. Pierce killed the King and Queen and tried to kill their son. Their son, who as it turns out, is Steve’s only friend. “You would have killed a child? You killed the King and Queen? And for what? Just so you could rule?” Steve stares at him, disgusted.

“To build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down,” Pierce glowers at them both.

Steve steps forward. “The King and Queen were decent. They helped the town. They didn’t take slaves and leave people to starve!”

Bucky turns his head and looks at him. “Go and get the slaves out,” he tells Steve, Steve’s mention of them clearly reminding him why they are here.

Steve hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave him alone with Pierce, but they’ve spent more time here than they meant to. More guards could be coming.

“Do it!” Bucky demands, and finally Steve moves, his eyes catching Bucky’s for a moment.

“Be careful. I’ll meet you back here,” Steve promises, and then he goes. He can hardly believe that Bucky is willing to allow him to go alone.

Steve doesn’t run into any more trouble on the way. His head is still spinning when he reaches the deepest part of the castle. It’s dark and dank and horrible down here. The smell is awful, the conditions completely inhumane. Steve can’t imagine what he would have done if he’d been dragged here. He feels sick at the thought.

He tries not to think about it and tries not to breathe too deeply as he uses his shield to break the lock on the door that leads to one cramped room, shared by more than ten people. He releases the castle’s slaves, telling them to run. They look shocked, but it doesn’t take much convincing. He hopes they have families to get back to, people to look after them. But even if they don’t, surely being free is better than being here.

He makes sure they find the exit and runs out to the courtyard with them. The way out is clear. All guards must have been sent to deal with Winter. Once again, he prays that Winter is okay. He can hear the sounds of fighting and yelling and what sounds very much like Winter breathing fire. He herds the former slaves onwards, making sure they run the right way, and then heads back inside. He has to get back to Bucky.

He starts to run back up the stairs to where he left Bucky, but he has to stop to catch his breath, his body finally stopping him, the adrenalin not enough. After a few moments of deep breathing, he manages to continue upwards and finally bursts through the door to the throne room and panics.

The entire room is on fire. “Bucky!” he screams, lifting his arm to cover his mouth as smoke envelops him. He’s terrified, but only for a moment as Bucky is suddenly there, pushing him back out the room.

“Are you okay?” Steve chokes out as Bucky shuts the door behind them.

Bucky moves Steve away further. “Come on.” He pulls Steve away back through the corridor, following along until he finds another set of stairs leading upwards, which finally takes them back up to the turrets.

Steve breathes in the fresh air as they reach the rooftop, his lungs filling in relief. Winter is waiting for them, looking pleased with himself. No one is challenging him. He must have taken care of everyone.

“You got everyone out?” Bucky asks. “Everyone good?”

Steve nods. “Yes.” He can’t help wondering where Pierce is. What did Bucky do to him?

Bucky turns to Winter. “Winter, I want you to burn it. Burn it all,” Bucky says forcefully.

Steve grabs at his arm. “Wait! You’re...you’re the prince...the rightful King. All this is yours.” He imagines Bucky can’t feel what he’s feeling through the armour, which is a sense of disbelief, mixed with wonder and hope.

Bucky frowns. “I don’t want it.”

“But think of all the good you could do!” Steve exclaims. “The town has been ruled by that horrible Pierce for so long. Think what you could do,” he implores Bucky.

“Pierce is gone,” Bucky states, and now Steve thinks the fire must have killed him. “I want to go home now,” he says simply.

“You _are_ home,” Steve tells him imploringly. “You could make things so much better for so many people if you stayed. Please, stay here with me.”

Bucky looks devastated as he hears Steve’s words. Steve hadn’t meant to say it like that, but he does…he wants to stay. He wants to help people. They have the greatest opportunity to makes things good for the town he grew up in…to fix the wrongs bestowed by Pierce.

After a moment of staring Bucky just...gives in. “Fine, I will stay,” he states. Winter whines and Bucky turns and strokes his head. “It’s what Steve wants,” he says quietly to Winter but Steve hears him.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve knows this is a big thing for him to ask of Bucky but he’s already thinking about how they can improve the lives of so many people.

Bucky just nods at him and turns back to Winter, who nuzzles against him, while Steve tries to figure out exactly what to do next. His world has changed once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting near the end now. Hope you're enjoying 🙂


	11. You did it for them, now do it for him

The next few weeks are difficult to say the least.

The first step is putting in place people who Bucky can trust. Bucky easily sorts those who believed in Pierce from those who didn’t, simply by touching them and feeling what they feel. Steve can tell he hates doing it, but it’s needed, so they can trust those they keep. Those they do not are banished from the castle and the town. Bucky would clearly prefer to kill them, but Steve wants to show him another way. He knows Bucky’s father would not have killed them. Bucky just sighs and nods when Steve tells him this.

Other newly-appointed guards are chosen from the best men the town has to offer. Two men, Sam and Clint, that Steve had occasionally said hello to when he lived in the town, become their most trusted guards. Steve is happy that old lady Carter will no longer have to live in fear. No one in the town will.

Bucky proves he is the lost prince with the most unexpected help. They find Rumlow in the castle and he confesses to everything he knew about what Pierce did. He’s a true bully to the end, complete with cowardice when defeated. He shows them where portraits of the Royal family are kept and it’s clear to see that the little boy in them is Bucky. Steve can see it clearly from his eyes. The locket also helps prove it to the townspeople.

When Bucky touches Rumlow, he refuses to banish him. He wants him dead. Steve knows of all of the guards, he deserves that the most, but he just can’t bring himself to have Bucky become that kind of leader. Rumlow is imprisoned instead, left as he was happy to leave the slaves, left to rot.

When the time comes, Bucky is crowned King. The town seems overjoyed. They remember Bucky’s father and mother and how fair their rule had been before they died. They expect the same of Bucky and they are not disappointed. With Steve’s help, Bucky puts in place laws for fair wages and no slaves. Bucky shares food with the town, and gold they found Pierce had been hoarding away. The townspeople love Bucky, or King James as they know him, and yet none of them ever really see him, not after the coronation.

Bucky spends almost all his time with Winter, up at the tallest turret where Winter has chosen to stay to keep watch over the castle for any threats to Bucky. When Steve finds him to suggest a new rule or law, he simply nods and signs whatever he needs to sign and goes back to talking to Winter.

Because he doesn’t really talk to Steve much anymore. Sure, they speak, but there’s nothing in the words Bucky says. They sleep in the same room, because Bucky still doesn’t seem to like to be away from Steve for too long, but he also doesn’t seem to even like Steve anymore. He’s shut down. Steve can see how much he hates it here. He wishes Bucky could see how much good he’s doing so he could understand how important it is for him to be here. So Steve tries. He tries to stay upbeat and happy, hoping it will rub off on Bucky. He asks often if Bucky wants to go into town so he can see first-hand the difference he is making to people’s lives. But Bucky always says no.

Steve also tries to get Bucky to talk about his parents, but Bucky seems to have little interest in that either. He says he doesn’t remember them, only glimpses, bits and pieces, and he has no interest in piecing his past back together. They are gone and that it that, he tells Steve.

After a couple of months, things get worse. Bucky stops sleeping in their room. Steve wakes to find him gone and goes looking for him. He finds him at the turret, curled up next to Winter. Winter raises his head and glares at Steve, without waking Bucky. Steve shrinks away, guilt flooding over him.

Steve feels desperately sad. He knows Bucky is unhappy and he tries everything he can to fix it, everything he can to show Bucky how important it is that he’s here, and to help him see the castle as home, but nothing seems to work. He brings Bucky a stick one day as a peace offering. Bucky simply looks at it and turns away.

“Bucky, please. I’m trying,” Steve says, his voice breaking. “I just want you to be happy here.”

“You are happy here, Steve,” Bucky says in the dead tone that has taken over his voice lately, turning away from him. “That’s all that matters.”

“Bucky, no!” Steve says, shocked. “Your happiness matters.”

Bucky idly fiddles with some papers on the table in front of him. “If that’s the case, then I would like very much for you to do your job and leave me be,” he states and Steve’s heart squeezes. It hurts.

“You...you don’t want me here?” Steve whispers.

“You have important things to do. Do them and I will sign them and you will be happy,” Bucky says bluntly.

“But...I want you to be happy too,” Steve says again, and he approaches Bucky from the side and reaches for him, but Bucky backs away, just like he did when they first met. Steve flinches. “I thought I made your heart beat,” he says softly. He feels like his heart is breaking.

Bucky looks lost. He doesn’t answer for a moment. “But yours never did,” he finally says and then walks from the room.

 

 

Steve visits Winter. Winter is not at all pleased to see him. He turns his back on him and huffs, little flames coming out of his nostrils.

“Winter, please,” Steve implores him. “I don’t know what to do.”

Winter snorts, his tail swishing angrily against the stone floor of the turret, sweeping dirt around.

“I just wanted to do some good, to do what was right. I thought Bucky would grow to like it here,” Steve explains, and Winter turns back round to look at him. “What can I do? I know he hates it here. It’s like his spirit is gone.”

Winter looks at him and then steps over to the edge of the turret and looks in the direction of the maze. They can just make it out from where they are.

“You want me to let him go?” Steve utters sadly. He’s long since figured out that Bucky won’t leave him unless Steve tells him to, but he’s been selfish and unable to let Bucky go. Steve knows he could go with them, back to the maze, but he believes in what they are doing. He feels a duty to the town. It’s the town his mother grew up in. But Winter is right. Bucky does not have to have this burden if he does not want it.

“You’re right,” he tells Winter.

Winter blinks at him.

“I will organise some things and then you can take him home,” Steve says, his heart withering, defeated.

Winter seems to understand that Steve will not be coming. He makes a whiny sound, because apparently he doesn’t hate Steve as much as Steve thought he did.

“It’s okay. I’ll miss you, but...I’ll be okay,” Steve says, though he’s certain that he won’t be.

He pets Winter lightly on the nose and then heads back inside, his stomach churning, and his chest feeling like an empty hole.

Over the next few days, he works out what to do. He picks Sam, who quickly moved up from being a guard to being one of Bucky’s advisors, to become the steward. He will take charge when Bucky is gone. Steve will help advise him. He doesn’t want the responsibility of being leader, just as Bucky doesn’t, he supposes. That makes him feel even worse, that he asked Bucky to take on the burden that he wouldn’t want to take on himself. He gets the papers drawn up and Bucky signs without even reading them or asking what they are for.

It’s done far too quickly. Steve packs up Bucky’s things while he is out, probably with Winter like usual. His heart breaks with every item he tucks into the bag, each item a piece of Bucky that’s leaving him. He stands staring at the bag of Bucky’s things and then takes off his mother’s necklace and puts that in there because he wants Bucky to have it. He wants to feel like a part of him is with Bucky. He also tucks in some of the drawings he’s done of the three of them—him, Bucky and Winter.

When he’s done, he doesn’t give himself a minute to process, because it would be a minute too much. He draws himself up the stairs to the tower.

Bucky startles at seeing him, before his usual blank expression returns to his face. “Is there more to sign?” he asks sullenly from where he is curled up next to Winter.

Steve shakes his head. “No. No, you’re all done now,” he says softly. “It’s time you get to go home.”

Bucky stumbles to his feet. “What?” A bright smile fills his face and Steve hates himself even more because it was him who took that smile away. At least he gets to see it one more time. “We’re going home?” Bucky says, looking between Winter and Steve.

Winter nods. Steve holds out the bag. “I packed your things.”

Bucky pauses and frowns now. “What about your things?” he asks slowly.

“I’m staying here,” Steve explains, trying very hard to keep his emotions in, keeping his voice even.

Steve knows how far gone Bucky is when he doesn’t argue it, at least not like he would have before.

“But you’re mine,” he states, but he doesn’t look confused like he used to. It’s not really a question. He sounds resigned and accepting.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, because he’ll always be Bucky’s, he always was. He knows that now. “But you’ll be happier back home. And I’ve got to look after the town.” He hears himself say it like it’s that simple. Like it doesn’t cut him to pieces.

Bucky stands looking at him, sadness in his eyes. “Okay,” he says softly. He blinks and looks down. “Okay,” he says again, taking the bag and pulling it onto his shoulder. He fumbles around his neck for a moment. “You should...you should have this,” he says, holding out his locket and dropping it into Steve’s hand when he reaches his palm out. “So people know that you’re still mine,” he says seriously, meeting Steve’s eyes for what feels like the first real time in months.

Steve smiles sadly at him, even as he puts the locket on. “Yeah.” He tries to smile properly. “Till the end of the line.” It’s a line from one of Bucky’s books, one of his favourites that he read back in the maze. It always stayed with him.

Bucky looks at him and lets out a breath. “Till the end of the line,” he repeats, staring at him sadly, before he blinks and abruptly moves and climbs onto Winter’s back. “Bye, Steve,” he says simply, sadness on his face, but a sense of inevitability there. This is how it has to be.

Steve wishes Bucky would hug him, but he knows why he won’t. “Bye, Buck,” he says with a tight smile. He has to let Bucky go graciously. He’s caused him enough pain already.

Bucky turns away. Winter nods at him and then launches into the air. Bucky doesn’t look back. Steve feels himself trembling as he watches them go and when they are just a dot on the horizon, the tears finally fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no 😭
> 
> Last chapter up on Captain Marvel day (that's Friday in case it's different in your country).


	12. Do it for you, for both of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting but Captain Marvel was awesome! :D

It’s a cold winter. Sam spends a lot of time making sure the townspeople are kept warm and fed. It’s a difficult task, but they get by. Steve does everything he can to help. He often thinks about what his mother would do, and it gives him strength. She was the kindest person he ever knew, always doing what she could to help others, and Steve wants to carry on that legacy.

He never stops thinking about Bucky though. He thinks about going to visit him and Winter, but he knows he can’t. If he goes home...he doesn’t think he’ll come back. Assuming they even wanted to see him. They might just leave him wandering the maze and ignore him. Steve would. He made them both so unhappy, after all. Still, he sometimes finds himself up at the turret, looking up at the sky, searching the clouds for them, imagining they decide to stop by for a visit.

It never happens.

Winter turns to spring and soon it’s been three months since they left. Three whole painful months. Sam notices how unhappy he is, but Steve plods along, doing his best. He still grieves for his mother, but now also for Bucky and Winter. He knows they won’t visit, as much as he longs for it. He wonders if Bucky does truly hate him for how he forced him to stay. Either way, Bucky doesn’t need him.

It’s a lot to handle.

As spring rolls on, Sam announces his plan to marry. He’s to wed a beautiful woman named Natasha. Steve likes her. She is strong and formidable. She will be an excellent leader alongside Sam. She also makes Sam go all starry-eyed which Steve enjoys a lot.

Sam catches him smirking at him. “You know, love is the thing,” he states as Natasha leaves the room.

“Yeah?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “How did you know you loved her?”

“Oh, I just knew,” Sam says, as he walks over to lean next to Steve at the long wooden table they have many meetings at. “It was when I couldn’t stop thinking about her, when I wished I was with her every second, when nothing felt right without her. That women takes half my heart with her every time she leaves the room,” he smiles.

Steve feels his face fall in sadness. Sam’s just described how he’s been feeling down to a tee. He wishes Bucky had taken his whole heart so he didn’t have to feel this hurt, this longing all the time.

“I think you know the feeling,” Sam comments lightly. “You know, you’ve done amazing work here, but you don’t...” He pauses. “I don’t want to say we don’t need you, because we do, but you’ve done such a great job that I think we can keep it going without you.”

“You don’t need me?” Steve frowns. He’s worked so hard.

“Not like we did,” Sam admits. “Not at the expense of your own happiness. Plus, you might be needed here, but I sure think you’re wanted somewhere else.”

“I’m not wanted anywhere, Sam,” Steve mumbles, looking down.

Sam chortles. “You really didn’t see it?” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “James loved you very much. I could see it in his eyes.”

Steve feels his cheeks getting red as he looks up at Sam. “He doesn’t...I don’t...” he stutters.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” Sam tells him. “You loved that boy too, I know you did. Still do. It’s why your face looks like that.”

Steve lets out a choked breath. Because he does. Of course he does. He’s just never admitted it. To himself or to anyone else. Not in the whole way he loves him, not just as a friend, but as more. But Bucky is there, right there in his heart, and if the last few months have proved anything, it’s that he doesn’t seem to be leaving it, no matter how much Steve tries to give him up.

“You’ve done a great thing. But it’s okay for you to be done now,” Sam says earnestly. “You can always come back and visit,” he adds, with a smile.

He’s right, Steve realises. He’s done what he set out to do. The town is better off. The slaves have been freed and Pierce is gone. He believes his mother would be proud of him. He also knows that she wouldn’t want him to be unhappy. She would want him to follow his heart.

Steve rushes to his feet and grabs Sam in a hug. Sam is huge and it’s like hugging a friendly bear. “Thank you, Sam. You’re a wonderful leader.”

Sam shrugs, patting him on the back. “Eh, I had great advice.”

Steve grins at him and then he runs from the room—excitement, fear, anticipation and hope running through him, making his heart beat wildly. He’s going home.

 

 

Steve travels with Sam and Clint by horseback. He’d gathered his things and said his goodbyes quickly once he’d decided to go. He didn’t want to wait a minute more.

The journey seems to take an age, until finally, after having to take the long way around the forest, Steve can see the maze again. His home. It looks beautiful and welcoming where once it was overwhelming.

“Tell King James we say hi,” Clint says, as he helps Steve down from his horse.

Steve hugs them both.

“Be happy,” Sam tells him, a genuine smile on his face, though his eyes are still a little sad-looking.

Steve will miss him. He’ll miss them both. But he can always go and visit, like Sam said. He smiles and nods in thanks to them and then that’s it. It’s time.

He starts heading closer, his walk turning into a run, and he briefly turns to wave to them as he gets within a few feet of the hedges. He runs along the side of the maze until he finally finds the entrance. It reminds him of before, except instead of fear, he’s feeling excited. Okay, maybe he is a _little_ scared, because what if Bucky doesn’t want to see him, but mostly he’s just shaking in anticipation of seeing him again. He has to take the chance.

He runs into the maze and starts shouting for Bucky. It doesn’t take long before Winter lands delicately on the hedge above him, peering down.

“Winter!” he beams. “It’s me!”

Winter drops down onto the path, carefully folding his wings in. He nuzzles against Steve instantly and Steve melts, wrapping his arms around Winter’s neck. “It’s so good to see you,” he says happily.

Winter looks him in the eye. It’s a knowing look, like he understands exactly why Steve is there.

“Take me to him?” Steve requests.

Winter nods and turns so Steve can climb on and then pushes up from the ground, extending his wings when they get above the hedge. It’s incredible to get to be in the air again with Winter, though he has to focus on holding on tightly without Bucky there with him.

Winter flies back down after only a minute, landing on the hedge and then dropping down to the path like before. As Steve climbs down, Winter gestures with his head at the path leading round the corner and Steve guesses Winter has decided to give him some privacy for this.

Steve rubs Winter’s muzzle and thanks him and then follows the path. He finds himself in his garden, except it’s not the same. Steve stops dead in his tracks. The flowers are gone. It’s just dirt patches. The fountain is still there but the water’s not running. The water in the base is stagnant looking, with dead leaves floating in it. The trees themselves look like they are from a barren wasteland, with just bare branches. There are no animals around. Everything looks dead. Steve’s heart breaks and the smile that was on his face falls.

He moves forward slowly in sadness at the state of his garden and can only imagine it reflects the state of Bucky himself. He did this. This is _his_ fault. He chokes down a sob and calls out Bucky’s name because he can’t see him anywhere. He has to find him.

He hears a splashing noise and turns to see Bucky pulling himself up out of the little river where he’d apparently been floating in the water. “Steve?”

Steve runs over there as Bucky gets to his feet. He runs to meet Steve, water droplets shaking off him as he runs. They stop a couple of feet away from each other.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, and his mouth is twitching between a smile and confusion.

Steve, well…he’s just smiling. Bucky looks beautiful and for a moment he forgets everything else, because he’s finally back, looking at Bucky. “Hi,” he says stupidly.

“Hi,” Bucky repeats.

Steve notices that Bucky’s wearing his mother’s necklace. “You’re wearing it.”

Bucky looks down for a moment. “Yes. It’s very special to me,” he says simply. “You’re still wearing mine?” he comments, sounding surprised, looking at Steve’s chest where the locket hangs. Steve has never taken it off since Bucky gave him it.

“Well yeah. I’m still yours, aren’t I?” Steve smiles, hopeful.

“Are you?” Bucky breathes.

“Yeah, Buck. Till the end of the line, right?” Steve looks into those stormy blue eyes. He’s missed them so much. He can’t hold back anymore. He needs Bucky to know how he feels. “You make my heart beat,” he says, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I do?” Bucky says, looking a little dumbstruck.

Steve smiles at the look on his face. “Yeah, Buck. You do.”

He reaches his hand out to Bucky. Bucky hesitates for a moment and then takes his hand. All Steve feels is the warmth and softness of Bucky’s skin, but Bucky...he gasps. He looks overwhelmed.

“Steve...” he chokes out, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Then, with no hesitation this time, he puts his hands on either side of Steve’s face and leans down and kisses him.

Steve sure is glad that Bucky makes his heart beat because it feels like it could stop in that moment. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and kisses him back. They both don’t seem to really know what they’re doing, but it’s perfect anyway. Bucky makes little gaspy noises the whole time, and Steve knows he’s feeling both the kiss and Steve’s emotions at the same time. It’s probably pretty overwhelming, but Bucky doesn’t pull away.

Steve never knew he could feel this way. It’s everything. Bucky is everything. He can’t even believe that he ever let Bucky go. Being in his arms is where he’s supposed to be, Steve is sure of it. One of Bucky’s hands runs through his hair, holding Steve close to him, Bucky making his whole body shiver and tingle as they kiss endlessly, or at least that’s how Steve thinks it feels.

When they finally do break apart, the whole garden has changed. Flowers in every shade of blue imaginable have exploded everywhere, the water is running again, there are birds in the fountain, and the trees are back to their rich, vibrant colours.

Steve looks round in wonder.

“I don’t like being without you,” Bucky says, drawing Steve’s eyes back to him. “Let’s not do that again.”

Steve smiles and tries to crush Bucky in his arms. Of course, he’s not very big, so Bucky probably barely feels it, but Bucky laughs against his hair. “Oh good, you agree.”

They both hear a whiny noise from nearby. Bucky laughs again. “Winter wants to join us,” he says with a smile, and Steve imagines Winter’s been waiting patiently until he couldn’t wait anymore.

Steve kisses Bucky again—he can’t help himself—and Bucky looks delighted and then they both call to Winter.

Winter comes bouncing into the garden, looking like he’s practically skipping, which Steve finds hilarious—for a dragon to be skipping. Winter looks a little put out by his laughing but nuzzles against him anyway, and then Bucky. Bucky reaches down and holds Steve’s hand.

Steve feels overwhelmed by warmth and happiness and god, he loves Bucky so much, and Winter too.

Bucky makes a very amusing squeaking sound and Steve can only assume he felt all that. Steve briefly wonders what Bucky would be like if they were to touch more and Bucky chokes and turns red, pulling his hand from Steve’s.

Steve presses his lips together to stop himself laughing at Bucky’s shocked face. “We can discuss that later,” Steve says with a grin, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Later?”

“Yeah, Buck. Later,” Steve says, because there are going to be lots and lots of laters.

He’s not going anywhere. Because he’s finally home.

  
_Art by[allgreymatters](http://allgreymatters.tumblr.com)_ ([View full size](https://66.media.tumblr.com/f14094ed83b438382f4948fb25b5cdd7/tumblr_po2ik1Kg0r1vqeho7o1_1280.png))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! Thank you so much for your support for what I call in my head my little fairy story. I really hope you liked it :D Leave a comment and let me know? x
> 
> Once again, massive thanks to [allgreymatters](http://allgreymatters.tumblr.com). Isn't that final art so gorgeous! And all of them! Thank you so much for doing three pieces for this (plus the adorable hedges in the chapters!). It's been so great to work with you on this. x
> 
> And again to my beta [itsthesummerof2001lily-ella](https://itsthesummerof2001lily-ella.tumblr.com). Thank you so much for your support on this! Don't forget to check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BGLbmsW9mC8PfiBLqo3mM) she made!
> 
> Thank you for reading! x


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